


Set Your Heart Ablaze

by McRaider



Series: A Profiler & A Firefighter [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Arson, Dani and Malcolm friendship, Derek Hamilton is Derek Hale, F/M, Gil Arroyo is Malcolm's stand in father, Gil gives Malcolm several hugs, I used Derek Hale because Tyler Hochelin is pretty, I'm tired of hetro relationships always being the focus, M/M, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright is the reason Gil has gray hairs, Malcolm Has Issues, Malcolm is just a fluffy puppy, Martin is a fluffy murder puppy, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Service Dog Derek Hale, Torture, Violence, because masculinity means showing our feelings when necessary, crossover but not really, so I made up my own character, w/out the werewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McRaider/pseuds/McRaider
Summary: An unusual case of arson leads Malcolm Bright to team up with a firefighter, but there may be more to this firefighter than meets the eye. The fact that he's easy on the eyes is also a perk. But can the two survive the case, their first date and "normalcy" or will the flame be snuffed out before it gets started.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Original Male Character(s)
Series: A Profiler & A Firefighter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601440
Comments: 196
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theyhulk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyhulk/gifts).



> This starts at the beginning of season one and will diverge as the series diverges, their date and this case will effectively replace episode 9, because I don’t trust Eve and while I love Dani, I don’t see her with Malcolm. Dedicated to theyhulk, because I promised her I'd create my own pairing to replace our JT/Malcolm.

**Chapter One**

  
The long, lithe body of Derek Hamilton leaned over, assessing his move, eyeing each item closely to ensure whatever move he made next would be the best one for him. He could vaguely hear Tally giggling over the sound of her husband, and Derek’s best friend, grumbling to just take his shot. 

“You damn Marines have to make sure it’s perfect, just take the shot man,” JT Tarmel laughed as he watched Derek’s pale green eyes look up at him and scowl. While not even looking at the table, balls or his stick, he took the shot, landing two of the pool balls in the corner pocket. 

Talley snickered while Derek stood and held out his hand, “You are going to owe me so much money.” 

Rolling his dark brown eyes, JT pulled a five out of his pocket and slapped it into his friend’s hand while calmly sidestepping the large German Shepherd that lay calmly and quietly on the floor by their reserved table. He wore a harness that read ‘Service Animal – Do Not Pet’. The dog lifted his head, tilting it as he took in the interaction between his human and JT.   


“Look at this Bones, I can buy you more treats,” joked Derek as the dog’s ears perked up and his human came over to pet his head. 

“So ya’ll never believe what I had to deal with this week from Gil’s new pet project,” JT chuckled before he started regaling his wife and best friend with an insane story about a man who seemed fine with cutting off some kid’s hand. “He’s certifiable, I’m telling you, guys a total nut job, and only when he’s about to let some killer kill him, do we learn he’s the Surgeon’s son.” 

Derek’s brows furrowed, “The Surgeon?” Having grown up on the west coast he hadn’t heard that title before. 

“Most notorious serial killer of our century, since Jack the Ripper, killed twenty-three victims. This is that guy’s kid.” 

Tally looked at her husband while Derek just shook his head, “That couldn’t have been easy,” Derek reasoned. He could only imagine how bullied the man had been as a child, how cruel kids could be. Derek had first-hand experience with just how evil kids could be when they found their newest prey.

“He’s a freak man.” 

Derek didn’t reply, he knew JT enough to know the older man didn’t like different. They’d served together for three months in Iraq when Derek had moved out here, he’d barely spent a week here before his friend reached out to him. ‘Us Vets gotta stick together’, JT had sighted with a warm smile. 

Derek didn’t mind, being in a new place and still struggling with memories from the war was plenty of reason to be thankful for someone watching his back once in a while. “I mean who gets fired from the FBI,” JT muttered. 

Tally couldn’t help but smirk, she’d heard her husband curse the FBI agents more often than not when they’d act holier than thou. Derek shook his head, “We should get going, and I’ve got a shift starting at five. Tally, always a pleasure,” Derek offered pecking her on the cheek. “JT, stay safe bro and I’ll see you around,” the firefighter replied shaking his best friend’s hand. 

JT beamed and nodded, returning the handshake he watched as Derek, followed by Bones, headed for the exit. Derek was lost in his thoughts as he rode in the cab home that night. It was a tough situation to be in, Derek himself hadn’t come from the happiest of families. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he smiled fondly as he thought of his mother, she’d been wonderful, he missed her, every day. 

A familiar warm weight settled on his right arm and he glanced down at Bones, soulful eyes stared up at him, no doubt sensing his shift in his mood. He lit his fingers glide over the soft fur on top of the dog’s ears, taking a moment to rub his ears. “Sorry bud, I’m okay,” he assured. 

Bones was Derek’s anchor now, he had to be Derek didn’t have anyone else. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, he had his brothers and sisters at the station, but it wasn’t the same. Derek wondered if this kid JT had met had any friends. Was he all alone in the world too? The firefighter found himself curious, he wanted to meet the young man something about his story drew him. 

It would be another month before Derek himself would finally get to meet the mysterious Malcolm Bright. Most of the others on his team had stories by now, the man who cut a guy’s hand off to save him from a bomb, the idiot who got bitten by a poisonous snake, the man who inhaled drugs and was tripped out of his mind with each story, Derek grew more and more concerned he’d never get the chance to meet this man. Seeing as the young man had some sort of death wish, Derek assumed it was only a matter of time before he either met Malcolm or was brought to a scene where he was dead. 

The call had come late in the afternoon, NYPD police officers were in an old disused train station and needed EMTs, according to the commanding officer they likely wouldn’t be running the victim to the hospital, which Derek admittedly found a little odd, but kept his opinions to himself. Derek and his partner arrived on the scene to see JT standing at the curb opposite the police station shaking his head. “What have we got?” Derek asked, grabbing his kit. 

“Malcolm Bright, age thirty, idiot decided to follow a bad guy into a tunnel and the guy attacked him. He’s responsive, but complaining of pain in his ribs. Just a warning, he’s pretty adamant about not going to the hospital,” JT supplied, giving his friend a nod as they headed into the tunnel. 

“Three simple words, I want you to repeat after me,” Gil Arroyo was currently standing over said man, who Derek assumed was Malcolm, and looked caught between furious and worried sick. Derek had only ever met Gil a time or two and usually, it had been in passing. “Call. For. Backup,” the commanding detective ordered. 

Their patient, who was now propped upright against a wall had his shirt open and was arm across his ribs, he looked pale, but if he was in a great deal of pain he was hanging it incredibly well.

Finally, the profiler spoke, “I admit it was ill-advis--”

“This isn’t a rhetorical question, Bright, I actually want to hear you say it, call for backup,” Gil snapped again.

Malcolm looked over at a woman who was crouched to his side and looked as horrified as Gil. Malcolm then turned his beautiful ice blue eyes back to Gil, “Call for backup,” he finally managed, groaning. 

Derek knelt in front of the profiler, unable to help but notice how attractive the man was, “Those are some nice bruises,” he pointed out.

Malcolm groaned as Derek palpitated a few spots, “I’m fine, couple cracked ribs is all. I’m sure. Gil, I know it was ill-advised, but it was necessary.” 

Gil whirled around, completely ignoring Derek and his partner, “Necessary! To run into a dark tunnel alone and let him pop you like bubble wrap!”

Derek couldn’t stop the slight smirk at that euphemism, it was startling accurate in this situation, “We’ll need to wrap his ribs, but I don’t feel or see any indications of internal bleeding. I’d ask you to keep an eye out over the next few hours for any unusual symptoms, bleeding when you pee, shortness of breath, things like that.” 

Malcolm nodded, “Thank you, could you help me up?” 

Derek and his partner slowly got Malcolm to his feet and made quick work of wrapping his ribs, and that was the end of it. For nearly two weeks, Derek didn’t hear about or see Malcolm Bright again. 

**Two Weeks Later**

Sweat dripped down the base of his skull, sliding its way down his already drenched back and t-shirt. Despite being the beginnings of a chilly November day, Derek felt like he was melting. He supposed he should be used to it, being a firefighter, but even now as he broke off anything that could present a falling hazard, he found himself unable to completely stomach this part of the process, when all he wanted to do was be done for the day. 

He stopped short as his eyes fell on a single charred figure, he felt his stomach churn, no part of him would ever grow accustomed to people who die in fires. Reaching up with his left hand, which wasn’t holding the ax, he held down the button on his radio, “Captain, this is Hale. We’ve got a body, better call in the PD,” he recommended. 

Columbia University was a unique school, while most schools had large campuses, and sprawling land, Columbia was smack dab in the middle of the city. Surrounded by buildings and shops of all kinds. Malcolm ducked under the crime scene tape, noting that the fire trucks and services were still here. Presumably to ensure none of the PD got hurt while inside. Normal arson cases were handled by the fire chief, it was rare for the PD to be called in, which meant there was something unusual about this case. 

Gil stood off to one side, in his usual stance that demanded respect and attention, Dani and JT were nowhere in sight. Instead, a man in fireman pants and a black damp t-shirt stood beside him, occasionally the young man would nod. What struck Malcolm odd about the scene was the all-black German Shepherd that was currently sitting directly beside the firefighter. 

Malcolm took a moment to study the man, he had to be around his mid to late twenties. He was a few inches taller than Malcolm, standing around six feet even. He had short jet black hair that was sticking out in every direction, which Malcolm assumed was due to the sweat and soot, he was practically covered in. Smudges on his dark tanned skin, from his arms and a few spots on his face. Gil looked up and spotted Bright, he quickly waved the profiler over. 

Moving towards his long-time father figure, Malcolm got his first real up-close look of the man Gil was talking to, the man he’d come to know as Derek Hale, he realized it was the same man who’d wrapped his ribs up two weeks prior. He was…beautiful. The dark hair and tanned skin all accentuated his oddly green eyes, it was as though a child were trying to paint a picture, and in their haste to create the grass they had added too much water. He had a perfectly chiseled face it seemed, though the jawline was covered in a day or two of stubble. 

Before Malcolm could even open his mouth he was surprised to find a handful of soft silky fur pushed into his hand. He looked down to where his tremor was usually plaguing him, only to see his hand was now occupied by the dog. 

“Uh,” he wasn’t sure what to say. 

The firefighter’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised by what his dog had just done, but he remained silent as Gil spoke, “Malcolm, this is Lt. Derek Hale, he’s the one who found the body while investigating the fire. Derek this is our resident profiler, Malcolm Bright.” 

Malcolm couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his handsome features as Derek reached his hand out to shake Bright’s. Malcolm accepted the hand, impressed at the strength that sat behind the firm shake. “Nice to meet you, and is this your dog?” 

“Uh yes, this is Bones. Bones can you say hello?” The prompt made the dog sit on his hind legs and raise his right paw in the air as if waving. Before he set it back down. Derek’s smile was wide, dimples setting in place on both of his cheeks and showing a wide row of white teeth. “You too, I’ve heard a little about you.” 

Malcolm was startled at that, “Oh?” the excited hum in his stomach rapidly descended into a dread-filled churn. No one ever said that in a good way. 

“JT and I served in the same unit briefly in Iraq, we’ve stayed in touch. He’s mentioned you’re a bit unique,” Derek offered, though his tone didn’t seem indicative of teasing or cruelty, Malcolm’s smile still slid off his face and he nodded. Malcolm wasn’t foolish enough to think JT’s words were anything but cruel or at least skeptical. Whoever this man was, he would also find Malcolm strange. 

Pulling his hand away he pointed his now shaking hand towards the dorm, “I should uh…” and without another word, he headed inside as if the devil himself were on his tail. Before anyone else could respond, and to Derek’s surprise, Bones followed the man. 

“He never leaves my side,” Derek bulked at that, looking over at Gil who looked caught between concerned and frustrated, “Did I say something wrong?” He asked. 

Gil shook his head, casting his eyes to the ground briefly as he tried to figure out the best way to explain Malcolm without causing more damage. “JT and Malcolm are still…navigating their partnership. I think Malcolm assumes that JT still sees him as a pain in the side.” 

Derek’s dark brows rose in surprise a second time, “Seriously? Because that’s not at all what I got. JT seems to think Bright is a bit squirrely but brilliant.” 

Gil nodded, “Yeah, therein lies the problem. Two men who both suck at talking about their feelings, let’s go upstairs and you can give us the rundown of the case and fire as a whole.” 

Malcolm arrived upstairs a little winded, mildly dizzy and only a minute before Gil and their new friend would arrive. He was surprised to find the dog, Bones had followed him and was now approaching him. Once more the dog pressed his long snout into Malcolm’s hand. The profiler studied the dog for a moment before he let himself pet the dog’s face and ears. “Thanks,” he whispered to the dog, appreciating the gesture even if it wasn’t meant to comfort him. 

Looking back on the scene, Edrisa was already crouched over the body, looking at the remains, while Dani and JT both looked through the charred wreckage from the fire. Malcolm had stopped short of the doorway and looked down at the floor, the edge of the linoleum was blackened as well as the doorway. Malcolm, pulling a pair of his gloves from his inside pocket, swung the door just enough to look at the opposite side, which held as much damage as the inside of the door. All the while, Bones remained at his side. 

He heard, rather than saw Gil and Derek arrive, without hesitating he looked at Derek, “The fire was set from out in the hallway.” Malcolm concluded. 

Derek felt his breath stolen in that moment in shock, “Yeah, how did you know?”

Malcolm pointed to the ground and then the other side of the door, “One would presume if it had started inside room, the students would’ve had time to exit and more damage would be on the inside of the door. But that isn’t the case, additionally, looking at the other rooms, it’s as if they were barely touched,” he pointed to the floor, “There was a starter of some kind, gas or kerosene?”

Derek nodded again, “Gasoline as far as we can tell. One of the groundskeepers said several bottles of it went missing yesterday morning from their office.” 

Gil looked at his young charge, he could tell the face Malcolm was making, something was quite right, “What is it, Bright?” he asked, hoping to prompt the young man. 

“That doesn’t make sense. Firestarters, by nature, get a high from watching their fires burn, that’s the essence of their pyromania. They like the power it gives them. But in this case, the fire was started and the person would’ve had to escape to ensure they weren’t burnt themselves, much less seen. They couldn’t have watched their fire.” 

Dani and JT both glanced up from their spots in the room, “You know, most people sound disgusted when they talk about this stuff,” JT pointed out. 

Both Dani and Gil shot JT a warning look, “Could he have watched it from outside?” Dani questioned. 

“No, well I mean, yes of course, but most pyromaniacs prefer to be present when they start the fire, as physically present as possible,” Malcolm looked around the room, “Do we have any information on the victim?” 

JT spoke up this time, “Michael Fowler, he was a junior, age 21. We’re working to get a list of friends and history. His roommate survived by jumping from the window to the ground below but busted his ankle and leg pretty bad in the fall. He also has burns on his hands from where he tried to put the fire out when Michael was...set on fire.” 

Malcolm’s brows furrowed, “Why would Michael die but his roommate didn’t unless they were in two separate spots during the fire.” 

“The burns on the body are extensive, some spots melted off, and others it’s clear he had clothes that melted onto the skin, if I guessed, I’d say he was standing in the gas when the fire was started,” Edrisa explained. 

“That’s nasty,” JT grumbled.

Even Malcolm had to swallow down nausea a couple times as he moved towards the body and the acrid smell of burnt flesh filled his nose. “I’ll get started on a profile,” he groaned, before moving away from the body. “Maybe after a shower, that smells awful.”

He was a bit surprised when he got five different nods in response to his comment. Malcolm stepped out of the room, taking a large breath of fresher air than what was in the dorm room. He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he whirled and saw Derek standing behind him, whose hands instantly went up to defend himself, as Malcolm jumped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry,” Derek replied.

Malcolm gave the man a small fake smile, “Easily startled, what can I do for you Lt?”

Derek grimaced at the title, “Well for starters you could call me Derek.” Bones was sitting, ever-present at the man’s feet patiently, brown eyes watching them both.

“Sorry, of course,” Malcolm replied with a smile.

“You don’t need to apologize, actually I wanted to apologize, uh, I don’t let other people’s perceptions dictate mine. I guess what I’m trying to say is, while JT was always polite, even if he hadn’t been, I still would like to get to know you.” 

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed, “Why?” He studied the man for a long minute, “You served in the military, but I can tell that’s not what left you damaged. You lost someone in a fire most likely given your career choice, and I assume that’s what the dog is for—“

“Bright,” JT snapped as he stepped out of the room, “Not everyone likes being profiled.” 

Derek raised his hand to silence his friend, “It's fine, JT. I did lose someone, and yes that’s why I became a firefighter. How’d you know?” He hadn’t told many people the truth about his past.

Malcolm looked from Derek to JT, then back to the firefighter, “You didn’t go into the room, but you found the body. That tells me that you didn’t want to see or smell it again. Despite being a firefighter the smell of fires and the dead bother you, presumably not because you were in a war.” 

Derek let his head fall forward, chin resting close to the top of his chest as he let out a soft chuckle, “It must be nice to be able to read people so easily. Do you ever get to know people the old fashioned way?” He asked, there was a hint of a sneer in his tone, but he tried to control it. 

Malcolm glanced over Derek’s shoulder to Gil and Dani who were stepping out onto the sidewalk. He could feel shame burning at the edges of his neck, “No, usually they don’t want to bother.” His answer was honest as he mentally threw another potential friendship into the wastebasket of his dysfunctional existence. 

Derek couldn’t stop the small knowing smile that spread across his handsome features, he couldn’t ever remember feeling such an overwhelming sense of protectiveness and flutter in his heart and stomach as he did when he set eyes on Malcolm Bright at this moment. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

Of all the potential things Derek could have said or done, that wasn’t even on Malcolm’s list, much less on a potential radar. He glanced over in confusion at Gil who was currently covering his mouth. Likely trying to hide a knowing grin, while Dani just chuckled and JT looked confused. “Sorry, what?” 

Derek stepped a little closer, close enough that Malcolm could smell his woody aftershave which mingled oddly with the burnt chemical smell still clinging to his clothes and hair, “I said have dinner with me.”

Malcolm’s brows drew together even more if that was possible, and he felt the shame he’d felt earlier creeping up, making his ears and face turn red. “I’m a little old to be bullied,” he choked out before he turned and rapidly walked away.

Derek’s eyes were filled with confusion as he looked back at JT and Gil. Gil didn’t reply he just sighed and moved past Derek, no doubt to do damage control. “Told you he was weird,” JT offered, which bought him a smack on the arm from Dani.

Gil caught up with his pseudo son a few blocks away and found Malcolm nervously pacing back and forth, Malcolm’s hand shaking as he squeezed it into a fist every so often, in efforts to stop the familiar tremors. “Kid?” 

“I had to deal with that sort of crap in school, Gil. I’m a grown adult, I don’t have to do that anymore,” reasoned Malcolm, his voice was even, but the way his head was tilted just enough to make his chin stick out as if he was on the defensive told Gil all he needed to know. 

Gil reached out, putting both his hands on Malcolm’s shoulders, one turned to wrap around the man’s neck, effectively stopping his pacing. “Kid, I don’t think anyone was trying to mess with you. I’ve only met Derek once before this, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to mock strangers. As for JT, well, I know you’ve been trying, just keep at it. The only way you’ll ever make friends is if you put yourself out there.” 

“I get burnt when I put myself out there, Gil. As soon as people realize who…” He stopped and sighed. 

“Kid, you’re never going to have a life, much less a normal one, if you don’t unwind and let people in from time to time.” In truth, Gil was tired of watching his boy get hurt over and over again, but he didn’t want to see Malcolm suffer alone in this world, not after everything he’d been through. Malcolm deserved happiness just like everyone else. 

“What happens if it ends up like my other…relationships?” In a smoldering pile of feces, went unstated. 

“Then I’ll be here to help you pick up the pieces. But I don’t think it will, Malcolm,” Gil assured. 

The young profiler didn’t reply, instead, he let his shoulders sag slightly, “I’ll go start our profile.” He replied, before heading in the direction of the precinct. 

Gil sighed and shook his head, “Is he okay?” Derek’s voice startled the Commanding officer from his thoughts and he turned to look at the young fireman and his dog that once again waited patiently at his side.

“Not usually. Why don’t you bring me the other files you have that we discussed earlier, maybe you can corner him in my office or something.” 

“He didn’t seem interested,” reasoned Derek.

Gil nodded, “Yeah well, sometimes he doesn’t know what’s good for him. Bring the stuff by this afternoon, ask again.” 

Derek didn’t reply, he just watched as Gil was joined by his other two detectives and headed away from the scene. Derek, unsure what else to do, headed back in the direction of his station, to grab the other three files they had. 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot of the arson case is based on a Criminal Minds episode, however I changed a number of things to make it Prodigal son worthy.

Chapter Two

It was two hours later, a little past lunch when Derek arrived with the files, he glanced around the precinct, and spotted Gil in his office, while JT, Malcolm, and Dani were all in the briefing room. Gil spotted him first and stood, waving him towards the briefing room opposite his office.

“What are you doing here?” JT asked as Derek stepped inside, following Gil.

Derek looked at Gil who just gave him a nod, “The reason you were called this morning is because this wasn’t the first fire on the campus, it was actually the fourth,” he set the files down on the table.

Malcolm quickly grabbed the top one, “What time frame?”

Derek looked over at the man, half hoping to get a peek at those baby blues, but Malcolm was staring at the file. “The first one was just under six months ago, on June 12th, another three months ago on August 13th, and the most recent one-two weeks ago November 12th. This was the first time anyone was injured or killed in the fire.”

“Their accelerating,” Malcolm murmured.

Dani glanced up from one of the files, “What does that mean?”

“Trouble,” offered Derek as Malcolm moved to the whiteboard and began making notes.

Malcolm looked back at them. “Derek is right, it means something has, for lack of a better term, ignited our perpetrator like a fire. They’re becoming obsessed and fixated on their fires, and unfortunately, that means more dangerous.”

“Can we evacuate the campus?” JT asked.

Gil shook his head, “No, we’d run the risk of evacuating the perp, the fires would start back up as soon as the students returned.”

“So you think it’s a student?” Dani asked.

Malcolm put down the file he’d been holding and started to speak, “It’s likely. Most serial arsonists are white males, between the ages of seventeen to twenty-seven. They usually lack confidence that one would need to say a professor. They usually start due to one of two stressors: loss of love, or loss of job. With the time between the fires is decreasing, it means their escalating, they’re beginning to get less and less pleasure from starting and watching their fires. At this rate, we could have a fire anytime in the next few days. We need to assume that it was lucky no one was killed in the first three fires. At this point, we should assume they’re aiming for causalities. We need to narrow it down further, I’d also recommend we open up a tip hotline.”

JT looked up in surprise, “Why? We never got good info on those sorts of things.”

Malcolm nodded, “I know, but the arsonist will likely call the line. Most of them can’t help but taunt the police in this sort of situation. They like to see authorities struggling to piece it all together.”

Before anyone could reply, Edrisa walked into the room, “We got confirmation on the victim being Michael Fowler, his roommate came in and identified. In doing so, he gave me this,” she handed Gil a zip drive.

“And this is?” Gil asked, surprised when Dani removed it from his hands and plugged it into their laptop.

“Apparently they were making some sort of video when they noticed something leaking in under their door.”

Immediately the laptop came to life with a video: _“Dude check this out, there’s a fire across the street,” a voice, presumably the guy holding the camera, commented._

The team gathered around the laptop to watch the shaky hands focused on the fire across the street. _“What the hell?” the camera panned over to another male in the room._

“That’s Michael Fowler,” Dani pointed out.

_“Something is coming in under the door, dude do you smell that?” An odd clicking noise could be heard before suddenly the gas was lit._

“Oh my god,” whispered Dani.

Derek felt his stomach churn as he watched the video, knowing inevitably what was about to happen. It felt like his world was starting to close in on him, distant memories of screams filled his ears. He was vaguely aware of Bones whining and pawing at his leg.

“Did you know there was another fire?” Malcolm asked looking over at Derek, only to note that Bones his dog was whining and all but climbing up the man’s waist. Derek had visibly paled at the sight of the video. Malcolm, recognizing that look well, reached over and closed the laptop. Still, Derek continued to stare at the computer.

Malcolm took a moment to recognize the symptoms: flushed skin, beads of sweat on the man’s brow, his respiration and likely his pulse, had both skyrocketed. Malcolm reached over, wrapping his hands around Derek’s wrist, he felt the powerful and frantic thrum against his fingers, and pulled him out of the room, leaving behind four sets of surprised eyes. Malcolm led Derek into Gil’s office, shut the doors and sat the man down on Gil’s couch. Bones, who had followed immediately stepped between Dere’s legs and pushed his head into the man’s hands, licking his fingers. 

Malcolm then moved over under Gil’s desk and grabbed the trashcan, putting it near Derek’s now bent head. Taking a seat beside the firefighter, he reached out to rub the man’s back but then paused. Would Derek appreciate it, “You need to try and slow your breathing down, you’re having a panic attack,” Malcolm kept his voice soft, briefly wondering if this is what Gil and Dani felt like when he suffered panic attacks. Helpless and filled with worry. Finally, Malcolm let his hand rest between Derek’s shoulders.

The sounds of harsh breathing filled the room, for the next few minutes as Derek struggled to bring his mind back under control. His fingers curled in his hair occasionally, pulling at the short hairs to ground himself back, in reality, his other hand gripped his dog’s fur. He could still smell it, the horrific smell of his family burning, Malcolm’s warm hand on his back was the only other thing tethering Derek to the here and now besides Bones.

Malcolm took a chance and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Derek’s shoulder, “In and out,” he whispered. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.” Malcolm had to admit this was the first time he got to be emotionally available for someone else. Well, he’d been there for Gil when Jackie had died, but this was different. Gil never showed fear, at least not that Malcolm had seen. Being able to be here for another person was a little gratifying like maybe he was needed.

If Gil, Dani or JT were worried about the two men disappearing, they’d kept themselves scarce, letting them have their privacy. Finally, after what felt like an agonizing eternity, Derek spoke, he didn’t lift his head or relax, but he started to talk.

“I was nineteen, it was night, probably a little after midnight. I had a big family, four brothers, and two sisters, and my mom,” a wistful smile ghosted across his lips as he looked up, tear-filled eyes boring into Malcolm’s beautiful icy blue ones. “She was perfect, kind and sweet. Everything a kid could ever ask for in a mom. My step-father was the town’s mayor and my mom a well-liked doctor in town. My stepdad had just been reelected into his position in the town, it would be his fourth term and there were several people in the city who were upset about it.” He paused and lowered his head into his hands, grinding his fingers into his eyes to stop the onslaught of tears.

“All of them?” Malcolm asked.

“I got my younger brother and sister out, but yeah, everyone else died, I…” Derek lifted his head, shaking it as he took one more unsteady breath. “Sorry.”

Malcolm felt tangible relief over the idea that he wasn’t the only broken person, “Believe me, I get what it’s like to have your family ripped away from you. Mine was different, but I felt like I’d lost everything.”

“I meant what I said when I asked you out to dinner, I wasn’t trying to be cruel.”

Malcolm smiled slightly at that, “I see that now. I’m sorry for earlier, I struggle to turn the profiler off. I’ll never be normal, so how I can possibly expect anyone, especially a guy like you, to want anything to do with me is beyond me. But, if the offer still stands, I would be interested.”

Derek felt the vise around his heart give way a bit, “It’s still standing.”

“How about dinner in, instead. Maybe some Chinese at my place, social situations make me…uncomfortable at times,” Malcolm explained, not to mention the idea of being out and risking his mother seeing him was torture.

“I’d like that.”

“It’s a date,” Then Malcolm paused, “It is a date right?”

Derek chuckled, the final dredges of his panic attack ebbing away, “It’s a date,” he smiled. “I think I’m going to head out, you guys don’t need me around anymore today, I need to get back to the station.”

“Sounds good, here text me your number and I’ll send you my address. What time are you off tonight?” he asked as Derek pulled out his cell and quickly typed in the numbers Malcolm showed him.

“Seven-thirty, give me half an hour to clean up and grab some food?”

“Eight it is,” Malcolm replied with a smile. 

“See you then, Malcolm.”

Derek stood and left the small office, while Malcolm remained seated for another minute or two, unable to stop the grin that was slowly spreading across his face.

“I take it you’re both fine?” Gil’s voice startled Malcolm out of his thoughts, and the young profiler looked up as Gil came over to lean on his desk.

“We will be.”

“Good. So, are you going to have dinner with him?”

Malcolm smiled, “Yeah, I am.”

“Good for you. Dani and JT are headed back to the campus to do some follow up with the Dean, why don’t you join them.”

“What are you going to do?”

Gil gave Malcolm a sad look, “I’m going to go talk to his parents.”

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Derek start to find some even ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact if you preview and save your chapters you don't get bumped to page one again. Thus not sure people are seeing it. Please leave kudos and comments.

It was a little after seven by the time Malcolm arrived home, he texted Derek to see if he was still up to dinner and was pleasantly surprised when Derek replied with an absolutely followed by a request for food.

Malcolm stared down at his phone wondering if he should order more than he could eat, would Derek notice? Would he say something? He quickly typed out a response, knowing he’d never eat all of it, but he could at least give it to Gil who would likely eat it. He then hopped in his shower to get cleaned up. It was another fifteen minutes later, having shaved, that Malcolm stood in front of his wardrobe, completely unsure what to wear.

His phone chirped on his bed and he moved over to it to see a message from Gil, ‘You’re overthinking this if you aren’t going out just wear jeans and a nice shirt.’ Was all the message said, leaving a smile on Malcolm’s face before he returned to his wardrobe and grabbed one of his dark blue button-down shirts and a pair of dark black jeans. He rounded it out with a black tie, hoping he didn’t look like he was trying too hard. He couldn’t remember feeling this nervous in a long time.

Another chime, ‘Stop thinking, kid,’ it read this time and Malcolm couldn’t resist, he hit the call button, putting his mentor on speakerphone.

“Hey,” work Gil and Malcolm’s Gil were two different entities. Work Gil gave instructions, he was firm and cold when he needed to be. He only ever let a hint of his fear and concern shine through when it was imperative, otherwise, he was the picture of disconnected professionalism.

Malcolm’s Gil, on the other hand, had a deep voice filled with warmth, and compassion. Who had never-ending patience, and a sharp sense of humor to rival Malcolm’s. “How did you know to send that to me?”

The soft chuckle echoed over the phone, “Come on kid, twenty years and you don’t think I know you inside and out. Don’t stress, it seems like Derek is a genuine guy.”

“Thanks, Gil.”

He could hear the smile in his father figure’s voice as the man bid him a goodnight and hung up the phone. The idea that he had a date, was somewhat unnerving. Naturally, on some level, Malcolm had always assumed that was impossible and frankly, improbable. But now, as he stood in the middle of his apartment, with butterflies in his stomach and a goofy grin on his face, he realized that he was wrong. Maybe he could be happy one day.

The buzz at his door startled him from his thoughts and Malcolm quickly shook himself before making his way downstairs. He opened the door and felt his breath left his lungs. There Derek stood, short hair sticking up as if he’d styled it with gel, his green eyes dancing with excitement, if the way he wiped his left hand on his jeans was any indication, Derek was just as nervous. He wore a deep jade green shirt that perfectly accented his pale eyes and a pair of washed-out gray jeans. In his arms, he was carrying a bag of Chinese food, and as always at his side was Bones.

The dog instantly pushed past Malcolm to wander upstairs, causing Derek to chuckle, “Sorry about him, he assumes when he’s out of his harness he’s allowed to do whatever he wants.”

Malcolm grinned and opened the door for Derek to step inside, Malcolm had to admit for once the smell of food was enticing rather than revolting. He followed Derek up his stairs and they both got a good chuckle when they saw Bones sitting and staring up at Malcolm’s bird. “Should I be worried?” Malcolm asked with a grin.

“Nah, he’s all bark and no bite, who is this, it’s a parakeet right?” Derek pointed to the wall of weapons encased in glass, "That's a pretty impressive collection, should I be worried?" the chuckle in his voice told Malcolm he was only kidding. 

"It's a hobby of mine, and no they rarely come out of their case, if ever." Malcolm nodded, “Her name is Sunshine, Sunshine, this is Bones and Derek,” he introduced before he accepted the food from Derek and began pulling out plates and forks. Derek was snickering as he sat at the island watching Malcolm. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because, JT said you wore ten thousand dollar suits, and I assumed he was joking, but watching you now, seeing your wall of weapons and books, I realize you are actually high society, aren’t you?”

Malcolm turned beet red, did he need to explain himself, or apologize? “My mother is wealthy, and she comes from a long line of wealth. My father didn’t start out that way, but he made his way through his doctoral process and to become one of the top thoracic surgeons in the country, so yes I suppose we are a bit wealthy. Is..is that okay? What’s so funny about it?”

Derek smirked as he reached out and took one of the cartons from Malcolm, as well as a fork, he quickly jabbed a piece of beef and some noodles and put them in his mouth, slurping along the way, which splashed the gravy everywhere. “I know, I probably seem like a complete heathen now.”

Malcolm just beamed in shock, before he pushed the plate aside and scooped his own forkful of food out. “Not at all,” he replied with his mouthful. “Though, I wouldn’t do that in front of my mother any time soon.”

Derek was still chuckling as he scooped another mouthful up, “Tell me about them, not the dark times unless you want to. But, tell me about your childhood, the good stuff.”

Malcolm leaned against the counter, picking out pieces of food he knew his stomach would tolerate from the mu shu pork. “Honestly, we were a picture-perfect family before my dad was…well arrested.”

“You always hear about well to do families being staunchy and uncomfortable, so they weren’t like that?”

“No, well I mean my mother is and has become more so since the divorce. But I think my father really balanced her out well. He was just a typical guy. We used to go out back and play ball, or we’d go to the beach on family vacations. He’d teach me about…” Malcolm stopped looking down at his food and swallowing past the lump in his throat.

Derek studied the man for a moment, “Hey,” he whispered, reaching out and touching Malcolm’s shaking hand. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” he reminded the man, his fingers lightly caressing the top of Malcolm’s hand. “If it helps, I remind myself every day that I’m not a reflection of my father, but a unique individual all my own.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened fractionally, “Really?”

“I was eight when my parents got divorced, and it was a brutal and messy one. I was, at the time, the youngest of five, I had three older brothers and one older sister, and unfortunately, I was frequently the ire of my father. I was constantly compared to my brothers, why wasn’t I stronger, bigger, taller, faster, you think if he said it. As time progressed he became more violent, towards me but also my siblings. Until finally, my mother insisted on a divorce. He was so mad he put me in the hospital for two months.” Derek supposed it said something that out of all the crappy things that had happened to him that was the easiest thing to discuss.

Malcolm sighed, “I think the hardest part of growing up with my father was how close we were when I was little, he was my best friend. Then suddenly one morning I woke up and everything changed, I learned he was a complete monster and the worst part still is I don’t remember everything that happened between when I learned the truth and when he was arrested.”

Both men were quiet for a long minute, Bones had decided at this point that neither the bird nor the two men were in any hurry to pay attention to him, so he wandered over to Malcolm’s bed, sniffing it before he hopped up and laid on the end.

Malcolm chuckled, “Sure Bones, make yourself at home.”

Derek laughed out loud, covering his eyes with his hand, “Oh god I’m sorry, I won’t bring him anymore—“

“No,” Malcolm instantly replied, he smiled as he wandered over to his bed and sat down, all too aware of the restraints that sat atop it. “I always sort of assumed I couldn’t have a dog because I didn’t have the time or inclination to care for it. But,” Malcolm shrugged as he reached over and gave Bones’ fur a gentle stroke. “Does he help?”

Derek nodded, he moved over to the other side of the bed, he held up the cuff on his side and shook his head, before he laid down and looked at Malcolm. He was pleasantly surprised when Malcolm laid down to face him. “My siblings and I lived with our uncle right after the fire, and I used to have these horrible night terrors. Just…you can’t even begin to imagine—“

Malcolm held up the other cuff, “Oh, but I can.”

Derek’s eyes softened, his heart aching to hear that Malcolm knew exactly what he was talking about. He reached out and placed his hand against Malcolm’s face, “I feel like…I was meant to meet you,” he whispered. The two were silent for a minute before Derek continued. “Anyway, my aunt and uncle had taken me to therapy, I’d tried medications, some of which was helping and some wasn’t. Finally, one of my therapists suggested a service dog, explained that he would be able to sense my anxiety and help me. I’ve had one ever since. When my last service dog, Marx died I went back to the original training company who had trained him and they introduced me to Bones.”

Malcolm smiled as he looked down at the beautiful Shepard who currently had his face resting between his front paws. He looked as if he was completely at ease in Malcolm’s world. “My mom hated dogs, so no one ever suggested it. Sunshine helped some, gave me something else to live for.”

“Well then, you may borrow him anytime,” Derek assured him, his eyes flickered down to Malcolm’s lips for a moment, then back up to the beautiful blues.

Malcolm didn’t hesitate, he took the signal for exactly what it was, and surged the short distance between them. Derek tasted of Chinese food, coffee and smelled of an over-priced cologne. Instantly the profiler squeezed his eyes shut and drew back.

“You okay?” Derek asked.

Malcolm sighed, nodding, “Can’t seem to get out of my own head, sorry,” he opened his mouth to say something else when both their phones started going off in the kitchen. Malcolm was the first to his feet, painfully aware of the chill he was left with as he moved away from Derek.

Grabbing his phone he groaned, “It’s Gil, there’s another fire.”

Derek, who had followed, picked up his own cell to see a text that basically said the same, “Need a ride?”

“That’d be great,” replied Malcolm. “I’m sorry about our date.”

Derek smiled and shrugged as they pulled on their jackets and headed downstairs, Bones right beside them. “We can always try again, that is if you want to.”

Malcolm beamed, “I really want to.”

“Good, me too,” Derek answered. They spent the rest of the drive through the city that never slept chatting about how Derek had met JT and what it had been like serving with him in Iraq.

“Does JT know you...like guys?” Then Malcolm paused, “Do you just like guys?”

Derek chuckled softly, “Honestly, I’m not picky. It isn’t about gender as much as it is the personality. I want a relationship, not just hookups. As for JT, I’m not sure if he knows, or cares for that matter. His opinion doesn’t matter anyway, does it?”

Malcolm sighed as he glanced out the window as the came to a stop just outside the police tape, “I suppose I fall under the bisexual label, though honestly, I’ve been with more men than women. I know what JT thinks shouldn’t matter, but for some reason it does.”

“Because you want him to respect you,” Derek answered, when Malcolm raised his eyes brows Derek just chuckled, “I’ve got a few psychology classes under my belt. As far as I can tell JT is the only one in your group you haven’t really...bonded with if that’s even the right word. Malcolm, that’s his loss if he decides to keep it that way. It shouldn’t dictate how you act or don’t act around him. I assume he’ll still be my friend and will still respect how good you are at profiling.”

“He respects my profiles?”

Derek just laughed as he shut the car off, and let his dog out, locking it once Malcolm had stepped out, “Oh god, I’ve said too much.”

Malcolm chuckled and just shook his head as they stepped under the tape. The fire itself wasn’t visible yet, just the acrid smoke billowing out the windows. Anyone who’d been in the building stood outside now, as Malcolm looked around as he grabbed his cell from his pocket and rapidly began to take pictures.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, realizing Malcolm had stopped halfway to the building where the firemen were working and where Gil stood.

“If this is our arsonist’s fire, they’re likely here somewhere, they get off on it. Look around, pay attention to every person, even if you think they look benign,” Malcolm ordered, well aware he was getting stares and glares from people.

“Yo man! What’s your problem?!” One kid growled and came forward, shoving Malcolm hard. Fury written on his face. “A teacher was just killed and you’re takin’ pictures!” The kid whipped out his arm, trying to take a swing at Malcolm who still wasn’t quite paying attention.

Malcolm, when shoved, hadn’t been paying attention and lost his balance, he felt two strong arms wrap around him, one at his waist and the other on his shoulder. Instantly hands and arms were being placed between the two before the young student could take a swing, shouting filled his ears. But what really caught his attention was at his feet, Bones had stepped forward, he stood in a defensive position directly in front of Malcolm, he was bearing his sharp white fangs and was growling a deep growl that started in one throat and ended up in another. He was the vision of threat.

“Back off!” JT shouted, now grabbing the kid from behind, while Derek and Gil stood by Malcolm, making sure he was safe. In Derek’s case, he was looking down at his dog a little surprised, one arm still wrapped around Malcolm’s chest. “He’s a cop, and you could be arrested for assault,” JT snapped, shaking the stupid college student.

“Tell the freak to stop acting like it’s a sideshow.”

Derek felt something in his brain snapped and he stepped forward, much like his dog, teeth bared, his glare was powerful and in that moment he was every inch the Marine and viable threat he’d once been, as he set his shoulders and stared the boy down. “Stand down, he’s the one trying to stop these murders, you acting like an idiot won’t accomplish anything,” his voice was low and firm, with an underlying hint of threat in it. “Unless you happen to know something you’d like to tell us.”

The younger man seemed to get the hint he was treading into dangerous territory, he swallowed thickly, glancing back at Malcolm who was watching the interaction with wide eyes and raised brows. Giving them all a nod, he shrugged off JT’s hold and walked away, rapidly disappearing into the crowd.

Everyone noticeably started to relax slightly, including Bones who had returned to his normal calm sitting position, his ears were still up high and his eyes still looking around, he was still very much on alert. Derek looked down at his dog, two brown eyes staring up at his green ones, before he knelt down on one knee, gently gripping the dog’s cheeks he pressed a kiss to the dog’s snout. “You’re a good boy, Bones.”

Gil let out a calming breath before he grabbed Malcolm’s upper arm and gently pulled him away from the scene. “Look, I get what you’re doing kid, but that guy is right. Someone just died, you need to have a little more…respect for the situation.”

Malcolm looked down at the ground and nodded, “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

Gil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he looked back up, “I get it. I really do, but not everyone sees the world like you do.”

Malcolm balked at that, “Like a killer?”

“No, like a scientist, who wants to study things. I’ll say it again, you aren’t a killer Malcolm. Don’t twist my words. Are you all right?” He let his hand fall away and looked at his profiler.

“I’m fine,” Malcolm lied, in truth, he was curious, curious about why a dog that barely knew him would guard him like he’d guard his owner and friend, curious why a man who barely knew him would step to his defense so readily.

“Right,” Gil said, his voice filled with doubt. “Any chance he’s the arsonist?”

Malcolm shook his head, “No, arsonists are by nature non-confrontation usually. They don’t have the confidence to win in a confrontation. What happened? And where’s Dani?”

Gil looked at Malcolm for a minute, “She was following up with a professor on some questions, he’d mentioned he’d seen someone leaving the dorm rather late. She arrived in the building and noticed a water fountain wasn’t working, she said the next thing she knew there was an explosion and fire at the end of the hall. She tried to save the teacher.”

“Is she…is she okay?” he started looking around frantically.

“She’s fine, minor smoke inhalation and burns on her hands, she’s sitting with the medics now on the other side of the scene. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you though,” Gil encouraged. “You sure you’re all right?”

Malcolm averted his eyes, “Why did they defend me?”

Gil just stared at the boy for a long minute, instead of seeing the thirty-year-old man, he saw the little boy standing there, unsure of himself and those around him. Reached out, he cupped his hand around Malcolm’s neck, forcing his chin up just enough to catch his eyes. “Because you matter, and he knows that.”

Malcolm didn’t answer, he just gave a small nod, before he pulled away and headed in the direction of Dani, no doubt to ensure his friend was safe and sound. Gil moved back over to JT and Derek, smiling when Bones moved over to sit on Gil’s foot. Gil smiled as he looked down at the dog, “I know he struggles, but we’ll get him there,” Gil assured the dog, before giving him a pat on the head.

“We will,” whispered Derek. Gils opinion of the man had just shot up to new highs.

Malcolm found Dani where Gil had said he would. Sitting on the edge of the ambulance, she had a shock blanket puddled around where she sat, likely from shrugging it off her shoulders and an EMT was currently bandaging her hands. “Are you okay?” Malcolm asked as he came over to sit beside her.

She smiled at him, “Yeah, I figured it was my turn to have Gil chew me out. Is he still mad?”

“I don’t think so, but then for a profiler, I’m terrible at reading people sometimes.”

Dani chuckled softly, tucking some hair behind her ear with her other hand, she observed Malcolm for a long minute, they’d known one another for close to five months now, she’d like to think they were really friends by now. “You okay?”

Malcolm looked up at her, he opened his mouth, to lie she was sure because he quickly closed it and looked down at his hands. “I had a date with Derek before we got the call about the fire.”

Dani beamed, “Oh yeah, and?”

“It was great,” Malcolm replied, though his voice sounded as if it was completely the opposite of great.

“What’s wrong then?”

Malcolm sighed, covering his face with his hands for a minute, before looking back up at the scene in front of them. “I must be stupid, or truly crazy to think someone like him would be remotely interested in being with someone like me.”

Dani’s brows drew together in concern and sadness, reaching out, she laced their fingers together for a moment, “Hey,” she whispered, waiting until he looked up at her with his sorrowful blue eyes. “Two broken people can be whole together, I don’t think he’d have gone out with you if he didn’t think you were worth it.”

“And what about when I have a night terror, I practically knocked you out two separate times. I can’t really expect to sleep peacefully with someone, in the same bed, can I?”

“I think you’re worrying about something that hasn’t even happened yet and I’m pretty sure that’s like therapy rule number one, only worry about what you can control,” she pointed out. He looked at her in surprise and she smiled with a shrug, “What, you’re not the only person who’s gone to therapy. Look, no one is saying a relationship will be easy, with anyone. But do you really think you deserve to be alone, forever?”

Malcolm let out a slow breath as he turned his eyes to Derek, who stood amid the chaos and activity. He looked like he was studying the scene. The beautiful eyes trailed over the people and onlookers slowly, until they landed on Malcolm. Something bloomed deep in Malcolm’s chest as a slow and genuinely happy smile slowly spread across the handsome face watching him. “I’m scared,” Malcolm whispered, responding to Dani.

Releasing his hand, Dani lay her head on his shoulder and sighed, “We all are when it’s important. Trust him, even when you can’t trust yourself.”

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movement and parts of 1x09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More than anything this chapter is moving us forward, you'll find pieces of episode 9 in here because I felt that certain aspects were more important. We learn a little more about Derek. As a general rule, I have a soft spot for therapists, but Gabrielle is easily one of my all-time favorite TV show therapists, she plays the role perfectly.

They’d set up an investigation room in one of the boardrooms of the administration building. Which allowed them access to the Dean of Students, as well as student records. Currently, Gil was sitting at a table reading through interviews from students who’d known Michael Fowler, JT was listening to some of the calls that had come in on the tip line in the past twenty hours. Derek had left for the evening, to get some rest, he was off for the next forty-eight hours, after having worked his twenty-four-hour shift. He’d asked Gil if he could come back the next morning and Gil had gladly agreed, Gil wasn’t afraid to admit that Malcolm seemed a little calmer when Derek was around and JT also wasn’t so apt to be irritated by Malcolm. Dani had been reading reports, after insisting she didn’t need to go home and rest, though her head was now pillowed on one of her arms and she was quietly sleeping. Gil didn’t have the heart to wake her. Nor the inclination, he’d seen her tired, she got very grumpy very quick.   


His eyes rested on Malcolm, who was sitting staring at the same computer for what had to have been several hours now, headphones covering his ears as he watched and rewatched the video of the fire, multiple times. A set of three knocks surprised them all, even Dani who roused from her short nap. A group of three students stood in the doorway. Gil looked up, Malcolm glancing over his shoulder, the boy who stood at the front was young, couldn’t be more than a sophomore, he had short hair that was almost long enough to fall in his eyes. Behind him stood two young women, a blonde who appeared a year or two older and a young Asian woman who looked nervous and uncomfortable. 

“Hi, um, we’re students in the chemistry class, we wanted to help.”

JT looked over at Gil, “How do you think you can help?” Gil asked, trying to contain his skepticism.

“We think we know how he did it, set the fire,” the boy explained.

Malcolm had turned in his seat and remove his headphones, he was studying the three students. None of them fit the bill, the girl behind him to the right, the blonde kept twisting her ring three times. OCD, common enough, though Malcolm was a little unsettled by how she kept staring at him. The young Asian girl looked uncomfortable just being around adults, and the kid in the front just appeared cocky, with his chin held high and avoiding eye contact with anyone person too long.

The four teammates glanced at one another, before turning back to the students, Gil folded his hands in front of himself, interlacing his fingers, “All right, how’d they do it.”

The student slid his backpack off his shoulder where it hung, and unzipped a small pocket. Pulling out a lightbulb he held it for all of them to see, “If you drill a hold in the side, fill it with something flammable, then flip the switch. Heats up the flammable fluid and bam, homemade bomb.” The boy exaggerated, the grin on his face was a little manic and it set Gil on edge. Gil let his eyes shoot over to Malcolm, he caught the profiler’s eyes and was surprised when Malcolm gave him the slightest shake of the head. 

Then the blonde girl spoke, her voice soft, Malcolm swore he could hear something mildly akin to awe in her tone. Malcolm’s brow’s furrowed, how could a girl of barely twenty possibly know who he was? “This stuff isn’t exactly hard to find, want to know how to create a molotov cocktail that sets itself on fire? Potassium, sulfur and normal sugar, sugar…sugar which you can get at the supermarket.” She used her fingers to count off the three ingredients. Malcolm’s hunch was proven correct when she repeated sugar three times. He could still feel his skin crawl from the way this blonde was staring at him, as the second girl started to speak

“Anyone can find this stuff on google or youtube,” offered the Asian girl softly.

Gil glanced over at his team, he wouldn’t admit how discomforting it was to know this was easily accessible information to just about anyone. This wasn’t a surprise, of course with the time of the internet bad things were everywhere. Standing he nodded his appreciation and kindly showed them out the door, he shut the door behind them, leaning against it as he looked at his three charges.

“That’s a whole new level of disturbing,” muttered Dani.

JT nodded, “Internet and social media making our jobs harder one person at a time.”

Gil turned his look to Malcolm who looked like something in his mind was clicking, “What’s up, Bright. Any chance one of those three were our arsonist?”

Malcolm shook his head, “No, at least not based on your typical arsonist model.” He couldn’t deny the young woman gave him the creeps, but that didn’t make her an arsonist, he probably gave tons of people the creeps. 

JT studied the younger man, “Are you saying this arsonist doesn’t fit whatever your profile is?”

Malcolm sighed and looked back at him, “That’s the issue, all profiles are based on common themes and concepts of each perpetrator that’s been interviewed. In this case, we have hundreds of interviews at Quantico saying these are the necessary qualifiers for an arsonist.”

“But?” Dani asked.

“But it doesn’t fit, we’re missing two of the most crucial points: sex and power, the two motives of a serial arsonist, which renders my profile useless,” from the pinch of his brow, and the frown on his face, Gil could see Malcolm was frustrated by this confession. 

“So what now?” JT asked.

Gil sighed, glancing at his watch, it was just past midnight, “For now, we go home, get some rest. We’ll start back fresh first thing in the morning.”

Dani and JT both nodded, gathering their things to head out. Malcolm, on the other hand, sat back down and continued to stare at his video. Gil walked over to the man, “Come on, you too, Bright.”

Malcolm shook his head, “There’s something here, something I’m missing. I just know it.”

“Yeah, so maybe you need some time to think outside the box,” Gil reasoned. “You can start by taking a break.” 

“Profiling is about looking at statistics and being able to define who usually commit these crimes.”

Gil nodded, taking a seat, “Police work is patience.”

Malcolm couldn’t help the fond smile that spread across his features at the memorable line his Gil used to say when he was younger, “I’ve never been very good at patience.”

“Get some rest, kid. Who knows, maybe something will come to you. ” Gil replied with a soft chuckle, gently clasping the younger man’s shoulder and stood, turning to leave.

“Gil?” The older officer turned, brown eyes studying the man he considered a son. “Why…why me?” Malcolm’s tone was etched with hope and a hint of insecurity.

Gil’s brows drew together, confusion clear on his face, a soft smirk on his face like the one he’d worn when little Malcolm had said ‘pull out your gun’ twenty years ago when they’d met. “Why you, what?”

Malcolm looked down, his hand shook with its usual tremor, and he clenched it in a fist, “Why did you bother sticking around. You never had to, it wasn’t part of your job to keep coming back after everything happened. So why did you? All I ever did was cause you worry and…” Malcolm stopped when he saw two familiar brown hands gripping his hands. When he looked up, Gil was crouched directly in front of him.

“I don’t know, and to be completely honest, I didn’t care.”

“But—“

Gil shook his head, “Just, listen, okay? Malcolm, sometimes, people appear in your life at just the right time. A time when another part of your life is unbalanced or feels like it’s falling apart. And these people that you meet, sometimes they’re there to help guide you through the tough times, and other times they just help you get by. I can’t tell you why I was drawn to you, I can’t tell you why I trusted you when you told me to pull out my gun, or that your dad was going to kill me. I can’t tell you why I kept coming back. What I can tell you is that a very basic and human level, you brought something to my life, to Jackie’s life that we desperately needed. Something that I think you needed just as bad.”

Malcolm, eyes damp with tears managed to croak, “What?”

“Love and normalcy. Kid, I’m a guy, I don’t say it, and the only time you ever said it was when you were high as a kite. But family is so much more than blood and I’m so proud to think of you as my son.”

Malcolm was quiet for a moment, before Gil pulled him into a tight hug, “I love you too,” Malcolm murmured.

After a few short seconds, Gil pulled away and stood up, “Go home, rest, eat some food and come back refreshed. We’ll figure this out together.”  
  


_A shrill two-toned noise and a strange wailing noise pulled roused him and he looked around, to see a flickering under his bedroom door, “Mom?” he called out as he crept towards the door. Reaching out, Derek grabbed his doorknob, hissing in pain as he pulled it away to see his palm was now an angry red. Grabbing a shirt he’d dropped on the floor before bed, he grabbed the knob again with the shirt wrapped around his hand. Yanking it open, a wall of smoke and heat hit him right in the face, it was enough to cause him to choke on the air, he quickly tied his shirt over his face, covering his nose and mouth._

_“Mom!” Derek called, “Caleb!” he cried out to his eldest brother, but their doors were open and the fire was already consuming their rooms. He heard screaming and crying from behind him. He desperately wanted to burst into the room where his older brothers and sister would be, but he could see their still figures through the doorway, something in his brain told him to move on. The acrid smoke was making his eyes burn like he’d gotten juice in them. Moving to the next room, while blinking his eyes to clear the tears from his vision, he could see it. A wall of roaring fire, engulfing another two rooms at the other end of the hall. The flames seemed to lick up the walls, scorching the wood, peeling paint and reaching out like some cruel creature trying to lure him._

_Shielding his face and eyes from the smoke he looked over towards his younger siblings’ room, Lela and Kyle, their door was still thankfully closed. Five-year-old twins, they’d been sharing their room since birth. The fire hadn’t touched that room yet, he grabbed the knob and shoved it open, quickly slamming it behind himself. Despite the fire being behind him, the room was still smoky and uncomfortably hot. He moved directly to the window and yanked it open, “Get up!” he ordered, grabbing his sister first, she barely roused. She let out a small cough, before closing her eyes again, he could see the second her chest stopped moving._

_“No! No you survived!” he turned to look at his brother but instead of Kyle on the bed, it was…Malcolm. “This is a dream, it’s a dream, Malcolm!” he yelled rushing to the profiler and trying to shake him awake._

It was an insistent velvet feeling on his wrist, right over his pulse that managed to pull Derek out of his nightmare, slowly his green eyes fluttered open. Instead of the charred and burning ceiling, he saw his own normal popcorn ceiling, and instead of holding his dead sister, his dog lay in his arms, still licking and occasionally flea nipping at the skin on his wrist.

Derek was drenched in sweat, he could feel it rapidly cooling his body down, and he slowly sat up, looking around his small one-bedroom apartment. Bones whined in his arms, gently nudging his wrist now. Derek glanced back down at the dog, and gave him a reassuring pat, “I’m awake, thanks buddy,” he huffed. He took a moment, closing his eyes and resting his head on top of Bones’ head, allowing the final tingles of panic and pull of sadness to ebb away from his body as his heart rate returned to a normal level.

Lifting his head, he glanced at his phone which read 4:00 AM, he had time to go for a run and then hop in the shower before he’d promised to show up on campus. “Come on, bud, let’s go for a run.”  


“NO!” he screamed sitting up in bed, breathing heavily, glancing down at his restraints he noticed a gold metal deadbolt on them. Browse furrowing, he looked up and noticed a figure standing in front of his weapons case. “Hello?” he asked as the dark-robed figure opened his case and pulled out one of his swords, “What are you doing here?” he asked again, but the creepy figure remained silent as it turned, practically dragging the katana on the floor. “That’s a 17th century Japnese Katana, it’s very expensive. And sharp. Are you real?” 

“Find me,” she whispered to him, before suddenly disappearing. A second later his sheets were yanked away and he was forced to lie flat. 

“Who are you?” He asked as the Katana stabbed up through his bed just to the right of him, “It’s just a dream.” Another stab between his legs, “Yikes,” another near his face. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a--” his eyes went wide as the blade shoved up through the bed once more, piercing his chest cavity. Malcolm screamed, shooting up in bed, against his restraints, his breathing heavy and exhausted.

“You’re avoiding me and my calls,” the familiar female voice still made him shout and nearly topple off his bed. He looked over at his mother who appeared to be unaffected by her son’s dramatics. She’d clearly just arrived, as she was making breakfast.

“Mother,” he whispered, letting his upper half fall back against the bed. “What’re you doing here?”  
Jessica rolled her eyes, “As I just mentioned, you’ve been avoiding me, so I came to see why.”

“I’m on a case, mother.”

She hummed as she poured the hot water into his French press, “Come on now, yesterday you told me you had breakfast.”

Malcolm shook his head, but undid his cuffs all the same and made his way barefoot over to the island of his apartment. She studied him as he sat down, noting the bags under his eyes, the way his clothes looked a little baggy on him, “How are you, really?”

“I’m fine, I had a date yesterday,” he told her, though he suddenly wasn’t sure why and as it hung out there in the open he wished he could pull it back.

She practically bounced, looking like a child who wanted to squeal in delight, “What’s her name? Is it Eva, isn’t she just delightful!” Jessica insisted, platting the eggs and toast for her son.

Malcolm sighed as he looked down at the yellow food, his stomach churned, would she be upset if he told her the truth. They’d never discussed it, honestly being open about his sexuality had never been on his radar, his father usually took precedence.

“Malcolm?” Jessica prompted.

Malcolm looked up, and forced a brief smile, “His name is Derek.”

Jessica looked startled at first, then slowly a Cheshire grin spread across her face, “Is he cute?”

Malcolm couldn’t help the chuckle that managed to escape, “Yes, he’s a firefighter.”

“Good for you, I expect you to bring him around of course.”

“Maybe after the first full date.” He pushed away from the island, having barely touched his food and headed towards his bathroom.

Jessica sighed looking at the uneaten toast and eggs, “Oh Malcolm,” she murmured before throwing them into the trash can. In truth, Jessica couldn’t care less about the gender of her son’s interests, as long as he was happy, she was happy. It would inevitably cause some discussion among their social class, but things were more readily accepted these days. She’d ensure he felt supported no matter what.

When Malcolm came back out into his bedroom, he’d changed into his usual three-piece suit, his suit of armor; a way to look just like everyone else, if not better than. Throw them off so they wouldn’t see all the broken pieces underneath. “Can we drop you off somewhere?”

Malcolm looked at his mother, he could tell she was trying, desperate to show her son, in her own way, how loved he was. Sure, she rarely hugged him, she’d never been the type to give kisses and cuddles. Not since his father had been arrested anyway. But she could momma bear with the best of them, rip people to shreds with a few words, and eviscerate them with a little money. He knew that was her way of showing love and affection. He inclined his head, “That’d be great mother, Gabrielle’s please.”

“Of course, I hear the fires are at Columbia?” She smirked at him as they headed downstairs towards the car, “Do your Harvard veins burn when you’re on campus?” she asked, not usually one to joke, Malcolm, smirked at her in response as they climbed into the car.

“Probably not the best wording.”

minutes later, he found himself sitting in front of his long-time therapist, clutching a toy panda in his arms, “Soo my dreams aren't getting any better,” he explained. 

“That's one way of describing it,” his therapist replied, a slight smirk on her face.

“This nightmare represented everything I've been going through,” Malcolm reasoned.

“How so?” Gabrielle prompted further.

“My subconscious is manifesting the central question that's been torturing me ever since I went back to my father,” Malcolm explained, trying desperately to work his way through his own thoughts and feelings. 

“What happened after I found the girl in the box? Your missing time,” Gabrielle supplied for him. 

Malcolm sighed, “But as soon as I get close to getting answers--”

“ Your father's thrown in solitary, and the FBI takes you off the case.”

He nodded, “Literal dagger in my heart.” He didn’t notice her hum, but he did see her glance at her paper with that same small smirk, “It's almost too on the nose, - if you ask me.” Her chuckle gave him pause, “You disagree?” He asked putting down the toy bear.

“I can't disagree with your feelings, Malcolm. They're yours. But there is another way of reading that nightmare. Were you aroused by this dream? Sexually?”

His brows rose in surprise as he laughed, that seemed impossible, stupid...and yet his mind went to laying on the bed with Derek for a few short minutes yesterday. “I was skewered,” he reasoned, but on some level even he had to recognize she wasn’t entirely wrong. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had sex, much less real, long last intimacy.” 

“Penetrated, by a sword,” Gabrielle corrected.

“Fine,” he answered, before pausing and shifting uncomfortably, “There were some erotic elements.”

She nodded, drawing another doodle with her pencil, “Malcolm what if this dream is a different part of your subconscious demanding to be heard? The part that needs sleep, food...even sex. You’re still human, Malcolm.” 

He decided to humor her, “It's a little Freudian, but I'll go with it.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “Not everything is about your father. Maybe this is your chance to make a change. Do something normal.” 

His mind went back to Derek, beautiful, gorgeous, Derek with a sweet laugh and an infectious smile. He didn’t realize he’d been quiet for long enough for Gabrielle to develop a few of her own assumptions. 

“I’m guessing by that silly grin on your face, this isn’t the first you’ve thought of such things lately?” 

Malcolm couldn’t help the slight blush that slid up his neck, “I met someone...and we had a small date yesterday. But...we were interrupted.” 

“I see, how does that make you feel, frustrated perhaps?” 

Malcolm stared at her in shock, “Are you suggesting I had a sex dream?” 

“I’m suggesting that your body may be sending you a message. From the sounds of it, your subconscious wants more with Derek. Did you like him?”

Malcolm scoffed, but ducked his head slightly, “Yeah, but--”

“But what?” 

Malcolm sighed, “What happens when I try and sleep with him, actually sleep. That’s never going to be possible. I’m never going to be capable of having a partner.” 

Gabrielle tilted her head at that, before looking around the room, “Why do you think you’re here, Malcolm. All of this is to ensure that one day you can live a relatively normal and happy life. There’s nothing to indicate you’ll struggle with this forever.” 

“I’m already thirty-two!” Malcolm’s voice rose with frustration. 

Gabrielle sighed, “This isn’t instant, Malcolm. You have to work through things, if you don’t then yes you’re likely going to suffer from PTSD for much longer. But keeping yourself from having relationships, from enjoying intimacy isn’t going to help either.” 

“And when I scare him away?” 

“Maybe you will or just maybe you won’t. You’ll never know if you don’t give it a try.” 

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Malcolm go on a real date, there's a steamy scene and then the nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos and for those of you who are just reading! It's super appreciated, I'm glad everyone is enjoying this so much. My goal writing this both as a story and as a character, has been to leave all of you feeling like we were missing Derek from the beginning, but that he could always fit. I didn't ever want there to be a risk he felt unreal or too good to be true. Trust me, he has flaws and we will see them a little later. 
> 
> One of the other things I wanted to achieve, especially with this chapter was how someone SHOULD react in a situation like Eve's. I hate that movies (looking at your Pepper) and TV's (and Eve) first thoughts are girls are danty wallflowers who don't know to handle their man's nightmares or night terrors. Look, if you have someone who had bad dreams chances are you knew it going in or were there when it started. Of course no one should be put in danger, but these people are not within their own control it's not fair to automatically blame them. So I worked super hard on this chapter for that reason because I wanted the reactions to be real and more appropriate for someone who is struggling.

Chapter Five

Derek arrived at their campus head-quarters set up with five cups of coffee and a box of donuts, much to the delight of the team as they greeted him. He studied Malcolm for a minute, trying to decide how to approach him. Why did it suddenly feel weird, ‘probably because you dreamt he’d died in the fire’ his brain supplied.

“Did you sleep at all?” JT’s question startled Derek from his thoughts and he had to give his head a shake to clear the thoughts from his mind.

“What?”

JT squinted as he stared at his friend, “You all right?” It was one thing to spend all day worrying about insomnia Bright, but an entire other thing to worry about his best friend.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

JT snorted, “Well for starters it kinda looks like you just bribed a bunch of cops, what for I’m not sure. And now you’re standing here in the corner staring at Bright. What’s going on with you?” 

Derek looked over at JT, “I had a dream about him.”

JT’s face contorted into a mixture of disgust and discomfort, “Wasn’t a sex dream was it?” 

Derek’s ears turned red as he smacked his friend in the stomach, “You’re gross, no...he died. It was a dream about from the fire when I was a kid, but he was in the house instead of...my brothers and sisters.” 

The detective was quiet for a moment as he watched the normal manic movements of their profiler. JT couldn’t say he loved having the kid on the team, not yet anyway, but he tolerated it more than he used to. When Bright had first joined the team, JT had been angry, but he realized that most of that anger was just hurt feelings. JT had never been one to trust easily, and it had taken so long to warm up to trusting Gil and Dani that bringing another person into the fold felt like a betrayal of the worst kind. 

JT could at least admit now his anger and resentment at having Bright here had been childish and based on the foolish assumption that they were great without him. In truth, they were great without him, they could function and solve cases, but as a cop, wasn’t it his job to want as many resources as possible to protect their victims? 

JT’s thoughts then turned to Derek, he’d known the man for several years now, first up close and personal when they’d served in Iraq, JT had barely been in his mid-twenties and Derek had only been eighteen. They’d bonded like brothers over there and JT saw him as a younger brother he’d always wanted. When they’d ended up with different assignments later, JT had made sure to stay in contact, now thirteen years later he was glad he did. He’d watched Derek grow up, appreciated how much growing he’d done. “You love him?” 

Derek’s head whipped around so quick that JT was worried he’d get whiplash, green eyes went wide as if Derek didn’t know what to say, or how to even say it. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. This happened several more times before Derek looked back over at Malcolm. “I barely know him,” Derek whispered. 

JT chuckled, “Sometimes you just know, bro. Trust me. I get it.” 

“Is...is that okay?” 

JT clapped the younger man on the shoulder and smiled, “As long as I get to be your best man, I don’t care who you love. I’m still going to harass him though.” 

“Hey guys, we one of the uni’s just called this in, the call came in a little after the latest fire was started,” Dani alerted the team before playing the message. A garbled and clearly a distorted voice spoke: “ _I do this for Malcam_.” 

“Malcolm?” Derek questioned, having moved closer with JT. His eyes filled with worry and confusion.  
  
Malcolm shook his head, “I...this doesn’t make any sense?” His mind was racing as he tried to imagine how he could possibly know this person. Serial killers, well not tons, but he did know some, his

father of course. Not arsonists. 

“Any other students named Malcolm on campus?” JT looked back over at the Dean.

“I’ll have to look, there may be a few, but it’s not a common name.” 

His mind was going through everything he could think of as he stood there, Malcolm cut the Dean of students off, “Wait, what if it’s not a student. There’s a version of the name Moloch, Malcam, it’s the Canaanite god associated with child sacrifices through fire or war.” 

Derek’s brows drew up, “So what is it a religion student we’re looking for now?” He questioned, “Some sort of what like baptism by fire?” 

Malcolm shook his head, “It may be a part of the reason, but I don’t think it’s the entire reason. No, we’re missing something, I just can’t figure out what it is. I think we need to pull the names of any Malcolm on campus, but it’s unlikely we’ll get anything from them.” 

“I’ll get started on the list,” The Dean replied with a nod, before stepping out of their briefing room. 

“I’ve got a couple errands to run today, call me if you guys find anything?” Derek requested. 

“Course man,” promised JT. 

“Malcolm, can I talk to you for a minute?” Derek asked gently, catching the blue eyes. 

Malcolm hesitated, he glanced at his teammates and nodded, before following Derek out of the small briefing room. They waited until the door was closed, before Derek looked back at the door then to Malcolm, “Look, I...I know you’ll probably think this is ridiculous, but uh...look I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” 

Malcolm’s eyebrows rose, “About...us?” He couldn’t deny the pain he felt in the center of his chest at the thought of losing Derek before he even really got to know him. Had he already done something wrong? 

Derek’s brows drew together and then he shook his head with a chuckle, “No, dumbass. About this whole fire situation. Look, I can’t explain it, at least not right now. But...just be careful, please?” 

Malcolm studied Derek for a moment, the relief in his chest palatable at knowing Derek wasn’t talking about ending their potentially budding relationship. Malcolm gave Derek a firm nod, “Sure.” 

Derek smiled, he turned to walk away, then paused, before he turned back around and reached out and pulled Malcolm’s jacket lapel, bring their lips together, “As for us, I feel like we need to finish our date.” He muttered against Malcolm’s lips once they pulled apart. Their eyes met, and Derek was sure he could feel Malcolm’s pounding heart against his own breast. He couldn’t explain the giddy feeling he had when he was around Malcolm or the excited churn of his stomach at the thought of kissing those lips again. Derek was unlike anyone he’d ever met. 

Malcolm grinned as he pressed forward, pressing another short chaste kiss to Derek’s lips, “Are you working tonight?” 

“I’m off until 7:30 tomorrow night, and if that doesn’t get you interested,” Derek pulled him closer until they were chest to chest. Until Malcolm could feel Derek beneath their clothes, could feel

Derek was just as excited and interested as him. “Well, I’ll keep working at it,” he smiled, pressing one more kiss to Malcolm’s lips before he turned and walked away.

Malcolm let his eyes wander down the man’s long frame as he left, taking a moment to enjoy the idea of seeing all of it later. 

  
Malcolm spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon focused on the video and the recording of the woman. A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him out of his focus and he was shocked even further when he turned and it was JT rather than Gil. “Pretty sure you’ve got a date you need to go on,” JT reminded him. 

Malcolm’s eyes widened in surprise at JT, he opened his mouth to say something, but then promptly clamped it shut, unsure what he’d even say. Instead, he just looked back at the screen, before he slid his headphones up over his head and set them down beside the computer. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he answered, pointing at JT, his hands shaking, but not with their usual psychological tremors, but rather with excitement as he hurried out of the room, leaving before the other three cops. 

“Okay, that was adorable,” Dani chuckled. 

JT just huffed and rolled his eyes, “They’re both idiots,” he mumbled, but he couldn’t help the small smile on his face as he sat back down to look over the video Malcolm had just been watching. 

Gil remained entirely silent, but unlike Dani and JT, his smile wasn’t small, he was beaming with pride, at all three of his kids. 

Malcolm was surprised when he arrived home to his apartment to find Derek waiting out in front of his door. But it wasn’t just Derek, the firefighter had foregone his usual jeans and t-shirt and swapped it out for a dark navy blue almost shimmering suit, with a dark silver button-down underneath and a navy tie that had silver crisscrosses on it. His hair was perfectly coiffed, his beard was shaved leaving a light stubble that left Malcolm wanting to run his hands over it. He stood, leaning against the entrance to the building, on leg crossed in front of the other, a hand in one pocket like he was meant to be there. In his other hand, he held a single yellow rose that had red tips on the ends of the petals. 

For a second time in a short period, Malcolm found himself speechless, but for an entirely different reason this time. He was well aware of the blood currently exiting its path from his brain to an entirely different mind. Malcolm had always enjoyed sex, found it interesting, it wasn’t a requirement by any means. Yet, at this moment as he took in the sight of the practically edible fireman before him, he realized his perception of sex may have just changed entirely. 

“Oh, I believe I just rendered the brilliant Malcolm Bright speechless,” grinned Derek as he strode two long steps over to the profiler. He paused, leaving about a foot between them, his hands slowly going to Malcolm’s sides, just above his hips, “So I know this will sound crazy, but I took a guess, and if you hate it, you can say no. But the New York Film Festival is hosting an immersive experience of Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven and his wake, and it seemed like something you might be interested in. It takes you on a tour through a haunted man--” 

Malcolm surged forward and pulled Derek into a kiss, wrapping both his arms around the man’s neck. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as Derek put his arms around Malcolm and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies against one another. “That sounds amazing,” Malcolm whispered when they finally parted. 

It was nearly two hours later when the pair arrived back at Malcolm’s flat, both grinning wildly as they walked down the sidewalk hand in hand. “That was easily the best experience I’ve ever been through,” laughed Malcolm as he let them both into his apartment. Closing the door behind them, “Would you like something to drink?” 

Derek was beaming with happiness, “I’m glad you had fun, though I’m sure it would’ve been far more suspenseful if you hadn’t kept telling everyone what was probably going to happen next,” he chortled as he took a seat opposite Malcolm at the island. “And sure, I’d love a rum and coke if you have one?” 

Malcolm nodded, pulling out all the necessary accouterments, he made quick work of two tumblers before handing one over to Derek and then putting everything back. “I’ve been meaning to ask, I know each rose color means something, what’s this one?” He asked pulling the rose he’d put in his breast pocket. 

Derek’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, “It means friendship and falling in love, I know it’s probably a bit early--” 

Malcolm put both drinks down on the counter before he gently took Derek’s hand and walked him towards the bed. “Who cares, let’s quit worrying about standards, and just enjoy whatever this is.”

It was the most illogical thing he’d likely ever said and actually felt every bit of it. 

Their lips met in a slow passion, it built like a small fire that was rapidly approaching a roaring inferno. Hands and fingers ran up and down clothes, undoing ties, pushing their jackets off the shoulders, undoing buttons. Malcolm pushed Derek back down against the bed, his hands framing either side of Derek’s body. 

He could feel Derek’s hardness against his hip as he pressed heated kisses to the long neck, enjoying the sensation of the stubble against his own cheeks. Sucking over his pulse point, the moan it caused, as Derek pressed up against Malcolm’s body. 

Derek’s hands trailed up under Malcolm’s undershirt and stripped it off over the man’s head, pushing the brown hair from his face. His hands moved down to Malcolm’s belt, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Malcolm grinned, pressing his leg between Derek’s into his erection, “Don’t ever stop,” he murmured. 

Large, calloused hands pushed his pants down over his waist and past his thighs, the rough hands causing his skin to contract and hair to stand on end in delight. “Top or bottom?” Derek asked. 

It had been a long time since he’d done either and while he wanted to like bottoming, it scared him in his current state, “Top?” He asked hesitantly, “There’s lube in my drawer over there.” 

Derek nodded, rolling over and pulling the drawer open he pulled out the lubricant, “It’s okay, I’m fine with either,” he replied. 

Malcolm grinned nervously before he lowered Derek’s pants as well. Soon two bodies became one, slow movements became a little faster and more frantic until both of them came with moans of pleasure, before collapsing one another. Their breathing heavy, mingling together as Malcolm lay down beside Derek. Derek turned on his face and looked at the man he couldn’t help but feel over the moon for. “I’ll go grab something to clean this up,” he smiled, before standing and stepping into the bathroom across from the bed. 

He brought back a wet cloth, making quick work of wiping both their stomachs off where he’d come. Then he lay back down, “Can I hold you?” Derek asked. 

Malcolm smiled as he turned on his side, a familiar heavy warmth saddled up behind him, legs coming up just enough to have Malcolm feeling like the little spoon, one arm under the pillow his head was on, and the other over Malcolm’s waist. The fingers hung there lazily drawing circles across the profiler’s cooling skin. 

Malcolm let his own hands drift across the skin of Derek’s arms and hands, appreciating every inch, the dark freckles across his arms. A small part of him was terrified to fall asleep, but another part of him had enjoyed everything about this night, every moment and wanted just one more chance to feel completely normal. 

“Go to sleep, you’re safe,” he heard the sleepy murmur in his ear before he finally drifted off. 

He didn’t know how long they’d been asleep when he awoke, he smiled as he looked over at the figure of Derek, asleep on his other side now, snoring softly through an open mouth. Rolling over, he swung his feet off the bed, he took a moment to appreciate his calm and steady hands, before he stood and headed into the kitchen. 

He poured himself a glass of water when he froze, out of the corner of his eye, the figure stood there. “What do you want?” he asked turning his head to face it. The same dark figure, long dark hair hanging around its face, it was no question it was female as she slowly started moving towards him. 

Malcolm’s heart started speeding up, as it continued to move towards him, “Find me,” it whispered again, flashes of being chloroformed by his father, the trunk and the back of the car assaulted him again. 

“I’m trying,” he replied. 

“How can you, if you don’t even remember who I am,” the cold mutilated hand came up to touch the side of his face, scars of being restrained covered her wrists. 

He blinked and she was instantly gone, no longer standing before him, he slowly turned, prepared to go back to bed, when those same cold fingers grabbed him around his throat and started choking him. Reaching out frantically he grabbed a knife from his knife block, slashing out.

“Malcolm!” he heard a shout and blinked, only to see Derek standing there, he was gripping his forearm, and his eyes were filled with...concern? Fear, Malcolm wasn’t sure, but as his heart rate slowed, his stomach started churning. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m…” he turned on his heel and raced into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and prompting throwing up what little contents were in his stomach.   
He half expected Derek to have left by now, in a fit of anger or fear, instead, he heard pounding on his door, “Let me in, Malcolm please, don’t shut me out,” Derek’s voice was muffled through the door. 

Malcolm let out a broken sob as he curled up, trying to disappear into the floor, “Please go.” He didn’t really want that, everything part of his terrified brain was screaming for Derek to stay, to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. It felt like a vice was rapidly closing around his heart and chest, as he struggled to pull air into his lungs. He let out another choked cry, burying his face in his hands and wanting nothing more than to scream and disappear. 

Derek’s head dropped forward, his chin resting on his chest, while he pressed his forehead to the door, “It’s okay, Malcolm, I’m okay,” he lied, well aware the blood was now covering his hand and starting to drip down his arm. 

“I’m not safe, go!” Malcolm shouted again, though it was harder to understand based on how hard the man on the other side of the door was crying. 

Derek hated the idea of leaving him, hated the idea of letting Malcolm think he was upset or afraid of him. But Derek was also smart enough to know he needed to get the cut cared for quickly.

“Okay, I’m going, but not because I’m upset, or angry or scared. And I will be back as soon as I can,” he promised, although he was fairly sure that Malcolm didn’t even hear him. The only response Derek got was another sob from the other side of the doorway. 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to know what Derek's suit looks like it's based off this suit: https://twitter.com/dailythoechlin/status/781229336544350208, but darker blue. Enjoy. And yes that is actually Derek's actor wearing said suit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare from Derek's point of view

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will slow down a bit, I'm trying to use the six weeks between now and the new episode to study for a work certification I need. So I'm only writing a little each night. I'm on chapter eleven, but still I'll probably slow down with updates some. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and feedback! As well as kudos, I love you guys!

Derek had only woken up because his own nightmares had jolted him from sleep, the same images: Malcolm dead by smoke inhalation. Opening his eyes, he noticed Malcolm standing in the kitchen, facing away from the bed. He whispered something that sounded like ‘I’m trying’ before he turned around. 

Derek realized instantly Malcolm was sleepwalking or disassociating, his eyelids were fluttering. Climbing out of bed, he silently cursed himself for agreeing to let Bones stay over with JT for the night. It was rare that Derek allowed himself to be separated from his dog, because of the nightmares, but he’d wanted desperately to feel normal, and having a dog at his side at every turn wasn’t the best way to obtain that. 

Derek was on autopilot as he moved towards Malcolm, prepared to try and either wake him or get him back into bed. What he wasn’t prepared for was a gasp of terror and for Malcolm to pick up the large butcher knife from the counter and start blindingly slashing out in front of him like he was being attacked. Derek was already too close and felt the sting of the blade long after it had already slashed the inside of his forearm. He shouted Malcolm’s name, his eyes filled with worry and fear over the man before him that looked close to hyperventilating. 

Blue eyes shot open and Derek instantly realized how this would appear to Malcolm, he certainly knew how he’d interpret this if he’d been the one waking up. He slapped his hand over the bleeding wound on his arm, all too aware that putting his hand over it wasn’t going to be enough to hide the blood rapidly flowing from the cut. “Malcolm,” he said as calmly as he could, hoping that he could force as much safety and kindness into the world. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m…” Derek watched Malcolm’s expression shift from one of horror to disgust as the man quickly sprinted past Derek and ran into the bathroom. Cursing slightly under his breath Derek made a mental note to grab one of the kitchen towels and wrapped his arm, but for now, his main focus was Malcolm. 

Moving over to the door, mindful of the blood that now covered one hand and was rapidly dripping down his other, he knocked on the door, “Let me in, Malcolm please, don’t shut me out,” Derek called, desperate to get inside, he could hear Malcolm getting sick and crying inside. Derek’s whole body hurt in a way he couldn’t describe. Like someone was ripping out his heart and stomping on it, none of which was related to the pulsating cut on his forearm. Would this be the end of their relationship already? He didn’t want it to be. Something about Malcolm was so different and so perfectly broken and beautiful. Derek already felt crazy about the man even though he couldn’t possibly explain why. Clenching his jaw, Derek mentally reasoned that he’d make sure Malcolm didn’t give up on himself. He’d do everything he could to convince Malcolm they still had a shot. 

Finally, he heard another sob and Malcolm reply “Please go.” It sounded like a small child begging to be held but unsure how to properly express themselves. Derek didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to leave this beautiful man who was so scared and vulnerable right now. 

Derek’s head dropped forward, his chin resting on his chest, while he pressed his forehead to the door, “It’s okay, Malcolm, I’m okay,” he was starting to feel the first hints of lightheadedness, he needed stitches. His training about triage came back to him, on one hand, Malcolm posed a different threat all-together, what he might do to himself in the bathroom was all too horrific to imagine. On the other hand, Derek knew if he didn’t get stitched up soon, the situation would only get worse because he’d need to call an ambulance. There were be no salvaging Malcolm from his own guilt if an ambulance was required.

“I’m not safe, go!” Malcolm shouted, his voice muffled through the door, broken with what sounded like enough tears to fill an ocean. 

Derek wanted to pound his fist on the door, kick it open, anything to get inside. But he had to get the cut looked at, taken care of. He hated the idea of leaving him, hated the idea of letting Malcolm think he was upset or afraid of him. The first pricks of panic were beginning to fill Derek’s own mind and heart, he could feel his heart-rate, which was already elevated, trying to climb higher, could feel the prickle of a cold sweat forming on his neck and back. The panic wanted to edge out his rational thought, but Derek shook his head, clenching his jaw together he closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath. He held it for a minute, and let himself get lost in the feeling of his body. His arm was starting to hurt, he was still tired, but under all of that, the pain, the fear everything, there was an overwhelming sensation to protect the man on the other side of the door. A small part of him wanted to kill the man who’d caused so much pain to Malcolm. Letting his breath out slowly, and opening his eyes, Derek saw his decision before him. He had to go, his arm needed stitches. He’d let JT know, maybe someone could come help, Malcolm. He spoke, his eyes hot with tears, “Okay, I’ll go, but not because I’m upset, or angry or scared. And I will be back as soon as I can.”

He never got an answer to his statement, instead, he stepped away from the door, hurrying into the kitchen and grabbed a towel, making a pressure bandage the best he could with only one hand. He then grabbed his pants and undershirt, he could get the rest later. He pulled his pants on, buckling them. Derek then grabbed his cell from the floor where it had been laying and he sent a text to JT: Meet me at St. Annes hospital, I’m fine, but I’ll need a ride.

Derek paused for another minute before he sent one more text to Malcolm: This isn’t your fault, if you read this please, don’t blame yourself.

With that, he glanced back at the bathroom door once more, where he could still hear quiet sobs, then headed outside to flag down a taxi. The driver seemed less than thrilled about the idea of letting Derek bleed all over the inside of his car, but allowed him in all the same. 

By the time they got to the nearest emergency room, Derek was beginning to feel sick. He thanked the man and slapped two twenties in the man’s hand, hoping they weren’t completely covered in blood. He staggered into the emergency room, which despite being New York, was relatively empty for two in the morning. The nurse spotted him, he must’ve looked worse than he thought because she shouted for help and soon he was whisked off to an exam room. 

The next ten minutes went by in a blur as he was given an IV, and someone took some blood, before setting him up with a small bag of blood to replace what he’d lost. His eyes had been closed until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Green eyes fluttered open and he met the dark brown eyes of JT. That’s when he noticed Gil standing off to the side. Both men looked grim, and worried,

Gil perhaps more so, his face long and drawn. 

“What’d you bring Gil along for?” Derek demanded in confusion. Everything felt fuzzy, he assumed it was from the blood loss. 

JT sighed and glanced over at his boss, “Look, you may be my friend and concern, but Malcolm’s is his. I can’t exactly tell him you were attacked by no one and got cut accidentally. He has the right to know.” 

“I’m not pressing charges,” Derek said quickly, his face was firm and serious as the doctor started stitching up his arm. 

Gil studied Derek, something deep in his gut had told him this guy was the one, and he was the one who’d finally show Malcolm what it meant to be happy. But, Gil also knew that wasn’t going to be an easy ride for either of them. “Good, I’m glad to hear it, but that’s not why I’m here. Tell me what happened?” 

“We were sleeping, he got up, I guess. He was talking to someone, they weren’t there. I assume it was a night terror because I’ve done the same thing.” 

“What did he say?” Gil prompted.

“I’m trying, that was all. As soon as he woke up and realized he’d cut me he panicked and locked himself in the bathroom,” Derek explained, he was still more upset that he’d been forced to leave Malcolm alone after what had happened. 

Gil let out a shaky sigh as he rubbed his temples, “Okay, I’ll go check on him. Are you okay?” 

Derek nodded, letting his head fall back against the gurney he was sitting on, “I’m fine, please make sure he knows I’m not upset, just...worried.” 

Gil nodded, “I will, but I doubt he’ll believe me either way.” Malcolm was the poster child for internal guilt and blame. 

Derek watched Gil left the exam room, and he turned his eyes to JT, “You’re upset,” Derek commented, letting his eyes close again.

When JT had gotten the text message, which had only woken him because Bones had heard the chirp and typical service dog style alerted as he was taught, JT had felt sheer panic course through his veins. He’d promised Tally to call her as soon as he knew more, and had left quickly, with Bones in tow. He’d forwarded the text to Gil, who had immediately responded that he’d meet him in the ER. Arriving had been a whirlwind of emotion. On one hand, JT’s best friend and a man he considered his little brother was clearly safe. That was the first thing the doctor had told JT, who was Derek’s emergency contact. On the other hand, stepping into the small exam room, he was faced with a grayish sort of pale Derek, in contrast to the usually healthy and tanned skin. He saw the blood covering Derek’s clothes and arms, as well as the gurney and it all felt overwhelming. It felt like JT was back on the battlefield, despite knowing he wasn’t. So, as JT shook his head as he took a seat near the gurney, so the doctor and nurse could stitch his best friend up. “You were just sliced open by The Surgeon’s son, I’m trying not to be a judgy asshole, here. But Derek, maybe Bright’s just a bit too messed up to be with someone.” 

Derek opened his eyes just enough to look at JT, “How did you feel the first time you ever heard fireworks when you came home?” he asked, his voice quiet and calm. 

JT ground his jaw together for a minute, “I felt like I was in a firefight, I hit in my closet with my gun.” 

“He’s no different than a veteran who can’t come home from war. Would you condemn us to a life of solitude?” 

JT looked away for a minute, focusing on a spot on the opposite wall. He’d had his share of nightmares, still did from time to time. But he’d never hurt his wife, never attacked anyone. He was trying desperately to see it from Derek’s point of view, but instead, all he kept thinking was someone had hurt his best friend. “Can we not argue about this right now,” JT finally requested. 

He saw the defeat and hurt in Derek’s eyes, as the firefighter nodded in agreement before he closed his eyes and left the doctor’s finish their work. 

A million things were racing through Gil’s mind as he drove to Malcolm’s apartment. What would he find when he got there? Would Malcolm be in one piece still, or was his psyche finally fractured beyond repair. Would he have hurt himself? Gil knew this was what Malcolm really feared. Sure, the younger man acted like he wasn’t afraid of anything, he repressed fear like no one Gil had ever seen. But deep down, Gil knew Malcolm’s biggest fear wasn’t his father, or what the man had or hadn’t done to him. It wasn’t the killers they faced every day, it wasn’t even dying. Malcolm Bright was absolutely and completely terrified of himself and of hurting others.   


Malcolm’s fears had always centered on the words his father had once spoken to him ‘we’re the same’. With those words, Martin Whitly had instilled years and years of torment and terror in his ten-year old’s mind, that one day, inevitably, Malcolm would turn out to be capable of hurting people. Capable of manipulating, torturing and even killing people. 

It didn’t take a degree in psychology or profiling to know that, Gil had watched it. At every turn over the past twenty years, he’d watched Malcolm retreat into himself any time he feared he might be violent. Shrinking in an argument to maintain his calm attitude, the man rarely raised his voice, rarely got firm, all because he was terrified of what lay on the other side of his anger. Gone was the man Malcolm could’ve been, a perhaps cocky and surefire young man with confidence and bravado. In his place was a boy, because, at the base of all of this, Malcolm’s fears were still that of the ten-year-old: one day he would prove his dad right and be just as violent and cruel. Passive-aggressive tendencies had replaced anger and the opportunity to defend himself. Malcolm always constantly and completely restrained himself. Sure, JT and Dani didn’t see it, they saw a guy who went off halfcocked trying to get himself killed. 

They didn’t see what Gil had seen, a boy who had stopped himself on more than a few occasions from hitting someone, who had genuinely deserved to be clocked. From snapping and letting himself get good and truly angry. Gil knew that some people might even view Malcolm as weak, hiding behind his expensive three-piece suits, sharp wit, and razor profiling skills. But Malcolm was easily one of the strongest men Gil had ever met. He was capable of what most men only dreamt of, complete and absolute control over himself—usually.

Malcolm Bright was strung tighter than guitar strings, and one day, Gil’s greatest fear as well as Malcolm’s, was someone would come along and pluck that string hard enough that it would snap under all the pressure. And when he did snap, Gil was almost positive that no one in the area would be safe from the effects. But not because Malcolm hurt other people, but because Malcolm would inevitably hurt only himself and those who loved him, would finally lose him.

Arriving at the apartment, Gil haphazardly parked his car, leaving the four ways on, before he hurried out of the car towards Malcolm’s front door. Mentally, he was preparing himself for any number of issues, a suicide attempt, however, was at the very forefront of his mind. 

So when he finally burst through the front door, he expected to find something, anything. Instead, he found absolutely nothing. The knife was still on the floor where Derek said Malcolm had dropped it. But the bed, the bathroom and the apartment as a whole were entirely empty. 

Something deep in Gil’s gut rolled, worry was etching into every crack of his being. Sighing heavily, he pulled his cell phone out and quickly dialed JT. “He isn’t here.” 

“Gil man, you don’t think he’ll hurt anyone else like he isn’t sleeping walking right?” 

“No, I think he's completely lucid and if he does hurt someone, it’s going to be himself. Call Dani, have her meet me at Columbia, I think I know where he went, let’s just hope I’m wrong.” With that Gil hung up and raced back out to his car, silently cursing the kid the whole way. 

JT brought his phone down, sending a quick message to Dani to meet them at the university before he looked at Derek, who had gone from looking tired to scared witless. “What is it, what’s wrong?” Derek asked. 

“Bright’s gone missing, Gil thinks he’s gone back to the crime scene to solve the murders.” He hesitated to even say it, knowing full well once he did, nothing would stop Derek from following. 

“Then let’s go,” Derek said slipping off the gurney, his arm had been wrapped at this point they were just waiting for discharge papers, there was no need for him to stay overnight. Though if the dizziness that hit him was anything to judge by, he may not be mobile long. 

JT’s hands shot out to keep Derek from sliding to the ground, “Whoa, I don’t think so, he attacked you, and in case you didn’t notice you lost a lot of blood.”

Derek shook his head, sweat dotting his forehead, “I’m fine, and he didn’t attack me, he didn’t realize it was me. I’m going, are you going to drive or do I need to call another cab.” 

JT stared at his friend for a long minute, he knew Derek was just as stubborn as Malcolm, this was a losing battle. “Fine, but you’d better not strain anything,” grumbled JT as they both hurried out of the ER and towards JT’s car. Every instinct in JT’s body was saying this was a terrible idea, but he couldn’t stop a grown-ass man. 

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm figures out who their arsonist is, but not without putting himself in danger too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the rapidly growing Discord group #Brimel, you guys are amazing and I love you! I don't own all of the lines in this, where Malcolm is explaining the arsonist parts of that are from Criminal Minds.

Chapter Seven

He sat in the small office, looking over the tape again, and again, he’d been here for the past hour, having disappeared shortly after Derek left. Thinking of Derek made something inside Malcolm feel a pierce of pain, instead, he shoved it down, deep as far as it could go. And focused on the task at hand, why this person was setting fires. 

He slowed the tape down, watching each second frame by frame, and that’s when he noticed it. The doorknob, in the background, it twisted three times. “Oh god,” he whispered. It was still just a theory, he had to be able to prove it. 

Malcolm hurried across the campus to the site of the dorm room fire, he pulled down notebooks and anything that could potentially confirm what he was thinking. It felt like his blood was on fire as he moved from one building to the next, all the while mumbling under his breath about what he was finding. 

He felt, rather than heard his cell phone go off, he pulled it out of his pocket: GIL on his screen. Against his better judgment, on his way to the science building, “I know why the profiles never fit. The fires aren’t about watching something burn. This isn’t a classical serial arsonist, he’s someone who uses fire because of a completely different disorder,” Malcolm didn’t pause, instead he kept up with his manic speech, “An extreme manifestation of OCD. He does everything in 3's or delineations, and if I'm right, he'll have to kill again. There's a form of OCD called scrupulosity, it means religious obsession and compulsion. It’s an obsessive fear of committing sin, which creates so much anxiety that he's compelled to do something to ease that anxiety.” He was rambling, the downside of having an occasional manic personality disorder. 

Gil, who had arrived in their briefing room on campus by this time, clutched the phone to his ear while he listened to the man he loved as a son rambling on. He hadn’t heard Malcolm this bad in a long time. He was on edge, he could hear it in the man’s voice. On the edge of doing something incredibly stupid. Gil tried to control his own breathing as he paced the small office, feeling only marginal relief when JT, Derek, and Dani walked into the room moments later. “Malcolm, you need to tell me where you are, kid,” he tried to soothe. He put the phone on speaker, putting it in the middle of the table for the rest of his team to hear it, while he ordered JT to call the Dean of students and Derek to call 911 to get more firemen here, he had the distinct impression they were going to need all the help they could get tonight. 

Malcolm spoke again, “They’re using the fires to ease the anxiety! Remember the night of the 3 fires? We saw the doorknob turning against the lock. The person isn’t trying to get in, they’re compelled to turn the doorknob 3 times.”

Dani looked at Gil, she could see he was struggling to remain calm, his hands shook, and his whole body seemed to be vibrating with worry for the man. She spoke up, loud enough for Malcolm to hear, “But what about the first fires, they were all singles, shouldn’t they have been in threes then?” 

“They were, a trinity of three’s, the first fire occurred on June 12, divisible by three, it happened on the third floor, at three in the morning. Don’t you see, it's that convergence of 3's that causes the overwhelming anxiety. Obsessive compulsives ease the anxiety by performing the compulsion.

“And the professor?” Dani prompted again, maybe if they kept him talking they could fig8ure out where he was. 

Malcolm spoke again, he was starting to sound winded, he was on the move, running or jogging somewhere. “I checked for more patterns of the third day of the week. Michael Fowler’s was in that class. It was his third class of the day. If we looked into each of the fires we'd find a lot of patterns having to do with 3's because our minds are incredibly adept at seeking out patterns. Once that pattern hits, bam-- she sets a fire.”

“She?” JT questioned, his eyes glancing from Dani to Gil. 

“One of the chemistry students, the one who repeated sugar three times. She was also wearing a ring on her middle finger, she kept twisting it, in intervals of three.” 

“Tell me where you are Bright, you need backup,” Gil insisted, clenching his fist to keep from smashing it against something in frustration and fear. 

“It’s almost three a.m. she’s about to strike again. The third floor of the science building is on fire, that’s where we’ll find her.” 

JT hung up the phone, “The Dean of students said her name was Penny, her apartment is off-campus. I’ve got an address.” 

Gil nodded, “You and Dani head over to the apartment, Malcolm, I’m coming to you!” Gil told Malcolm before grabbing his phone he looked at Derek who gave him a firm stare that said he wasn’t planning on staying behind. “Have campus security pull every fire alarm on campus, even if we think the science building is the target, we need everyone to be evacuated for safety, just in case we’re wrong,” Gil ordered JT as they all made their way out of the room.   
  
Malcolm made his way up the stairs, winded from running across the campus, he could already smell smoke and feel the heat like a wall pressing down on him. The acrid fumes filled his lungs as he moved past the rapidly melting plastic that had cordoned off the construction area. There she stood, her arms out wide as if worshiping the heavens before her lay her two unconscious classmates they’d met earlier. “It’s time, you will be released,” she beamed at him. 

Malcolm tried to cough to clear the burning pain from his throat and eyes, the fire surrounded them, licking its way up the walls and across the ceiling, everything was hues of reds and oranges, some parts of the fire so bright and intense they brunt blue and green. He could feel sweat already dripping down his face and body. “Penny you don’t have to do this,” he told her, putting his hands out so she could see he was unarmed. 

She smiled as she saw him, “Imagine my delight when I learned the spawn of Satan himself was on campus,” her eyes were glazed over, and she looked almost ethereal. “Did you know your father killed mine, then my mother became obsessed with religion, told me it was a gift?” She sniffled, wiping away a tear, “I used to think she was crazy, but now I see, you’ve been delivered to me.” 

The two teens on the ground were beginning to rouse and he could see the panic in their faces as they realized what was happening and that they were tied up. “Let them go,” Malcolm encouraged Penny as he took a step closer. “You’re right, I’m here, take me, but don’t hurt them. They didn’t do anything,” he tried to reason with her. He knew it was pointless, OCD was a physiological disorder as much as a psychological one, the brain didn’t communicate correctly. 

Thick black smoke was filling the room, as the fire continued its path. Malcolm was starting to feel light-headed, knowing it was the smoke, it felt like his skin was burning and the roar of the fire above them was becoming white noise in a rapidly dimming world. 

Even as he slowly started losing focus, his vision darkening, he felt at peace with this ending as he let himself slowly hit the ground, “Penny, save them,” he ordered once more, though it came out as a croak from his dry and abused throat. He realized he’d sped along the process of inhaling the smoke by running over here and up the stairs. He’d been breathing heavily when he’d entered the building. 

Derek and Gil arrived at the other side of the campus when the fire trucks pulled up. Derek moved past Gil to his boss, looking at him, “I want to go in,” he insisted.

“You’re not on duty,” his battalion chief pointed out, as he stepped out of the engine. 

Derek nodded, “I know, but our friend is in there, give me my gear.”

Steven Sloane shook his head, “I can’t do that if you get hurt--”

“Chief! I will go in there with or without the gear. So either help me suit up, or get out of my way,” Derek ordered. He knew he’d get reprimanded for this later, but he couldn’t stand by and watch Malcolm die. 

Steve stared at the man a moment longer, before giving him a hesitant shake of his head, and stripping his own jacket and helmet. “I’m sorry, son. I can’t do that, you’re injured if that bandage is anything to go by. I have to do what’s best for you and my men, you’ll put them all at risk if I let you in there. Please don’t make me suspend you, by going in there.” Steve’s crystal blue eyes stared at Derek’s, both of them in a battle of wills. Until finally, Derek deflated, the adrenaline he’d been running off of, finally giving way to exhaustion. 

“Yes sir,” he whispered. 

Steve nodded, reaching out he squeezed his Lieutenant’s shoulder, “I’ll send Sanders and Pomeroy up to three, and debrief them if you have any information.” Derek was left standing amid the chaos of firefighters, ambulances, cops and a rapidly developing crowd to watch the inferno raging above them. 

“Hamilton,” a voice snapped him from his own personal hell, he glanced up from the middle spaced he’d been staring at, to look at his friends Sanders, Pomeroy and several other men and women before him. “Tell us what we need to do inside.” 

Derek opened his mouth, his energy wavering slightly, he closed his mouth, licking his lips trying to clear the fuzzy thoughts from his brain. “They’re likely to be on the third floor, there will be at minimum three people you’ll need to pull out, possibly four, who would be our arsonist. She…she thinks she’s doing this for religious reasons, so be prepared that she’ll be unreasonable.” 

“We’ll bring them out, bro,” Sanders provided, and unsurprised as each of the firemen lumbered past him, women included, they gave him a gentle pat on the arm. Before he watched them disappear with their heavy hoses into the building. 

Derek turned towards Gil, who was frozen, just staring at the burning building before them. The building gave a mighty groan, before the windows of the third floor all burst outward, the fire licking up and around the edges. Derek grabbed Gil, shoving him down to shield him from glass. As they stood back up, each of them held their hearts in their throat as they stared at the vicious flames.

“They’ll find him,” Derek whispered, not entirely sure if he was trying to convince himself or Gil. 

Watching from an outside perspective, it felt like hours to Derek, even as his own adrenaline and willpower was rapidly fading, he remained at Gil’s side, desperate for any sign of life from the doors the fireman had come out of. 

Six firemen headed into the building, expertly ascending the stairs while the rest began fighting it with water from the outside. All Gil and Derek could do was hopelessly watch from afar, the reflection of the fire in their eyes, forever burning into their memory. Some part of Gil wanted to chain the boy down if he survived this. Permanently remove him from any dangerous situation ever. 

Arriving on the third floor, they found the victims quickly, surrounded by the fire, two of the men started hosing down the fire from inside, while the other four moved towards the bodies. Sanders took the lead as his eyes landed on now four unconscious forms in the center of the room Malcolm, unconscious, he tried to rouse him, but assessed it wasn’t going to happen, “We need to get them out of here, now!” Sanders ordered.

He could easily guess which one was Bright, having met the men before when he’d treated him for a snake bite, so he pulled the man into a fireman’s carry, watching for his other three men, they glanced back the way they came to find the fire descending over their exit. They would have to make it quick. “Let’s go!” he ordered, he could barely feel the man on his shoulder breathing, it was clear his lungs were struggling to pull any bit of air in they could, unfortunately, it was all deadly. 

The men managed to get outside quickly, the fresh cool air almost painful as they took off their masks, “I need a medic!” he shouted as he put Malcolm down a safe distance from the building, his co-workers doing the same with their cargo. 

“Malcolm!” Gil had rushed over as soon as he’d seen the group step outside, his heart was in his throat as he dropped to his knees beside his boy. To say Malcolm was a sight would’ve been putting it mildly, his face, though thankfully not directly burned, was red from the continued heat and smoke, his face covered in dirt and soot, his head listed to the side. “He isn’t breathing,” his voice was filled with panic as he leaned down to listen for air. 

“We’re here,” the medics had arrived, prepared to be on-site immediately, two more firemen were helping the other three firemen with their other victims, while the small group got to working on Malcolm. 

It was a painful few seconds, long and agonizing as they did chest compressions and tried to push air into Malcolm’s lungs. Every compression felt like Gil was re-watching the childhood he’d seen the first time around, his own heart ceased beating it seemed during the tense moments. It seemed like an eternity before Malcolm let out a strangled breath and a horrific hacking cough. “He’s breathing, let’s get him to the hospital,” one of the medics called out. 

“I’ll ride with you,” Gil choked out, his own breathing and heart palpitations finally returning to normal. 

“Are you family?” one of the medics asked while the others started getting Malcolm set up on fluids. 

“Father, and boss,” Gil only partially lied, because as they got Malcolm’s prostrate form on a gurney and wheeled him away, Gil was certain this is what it felt like to see your child die. As if you’re very soul was being torn from your body and thrown away

“I’ll follow with JT and Dani,” Derek assured him, he desperately wanted to be with Malcolm, but with how things had ended earlier, he knew if Malcolm did wake up, he’d be better off seeing Gil than anyone else. 

Derek stood back and watched as the ambulance doors were closed, and it drove off with Malcolm and Gil. A wave of exhaustion rolled over him and he slowly started to sink to the ground. “Damn it,

Derek,” Steve shouted as he hurried to the firefighter’s side to catch him, JT and Dani, who had just arrived joined the man. “Get him off-site, he shouldn’t even be here. I don’t want to see him for forty-eight hours,” Steve ordered as he allowed JT and Dani to take his place holding Derek up.   
  
For the first few minutes as the medics got Malcolm hooked up to IV fluids and cool compresses, things seemed to be tense, but relatively stable. Until his boy started twisting his head weakly from side to side, trying to push the hands away from him. 

“Dad, whatever you can do to keep him calm would be great,” the medic sitting on Malcolm’s other side ordered as she kept checking his pulse and respiration. 

Her comment seemed to spur the patriarch of the team into action and Gil reached out, gently gripping one of the swinging hands and moved his other hand to the top of Malcolm’s head, “Hey kid, you need to settle down,” he whispered, his voice sounded hoarse, tired and he had to swallow a few times to keep back the wave of emotion threatening to sweep him away into a tide of despair. 

Lips under the oxygen mask moved, as bleary red eyes stared at him as if trying to figure out where he was. Gil let his thumb brush over his boy’s dirtied temple. He wasn’t even aware the ambulance had stopped and they’d started moving again, his sole focus on Malcolm. 

“Who’s this?” a doctor asked the medics once they’d given him the complete rundown of the situation. 

“His father, and at the moment the only thing keeping him calm,” the woman answered. 

“His chart says ‘no sedatives’, but if you can’t calm him down they’ll have to,” a nurse explained from, where she stood nearby. They all looked nervous, having seen Malcolm Bright a few times now, no one was in a hurry to fight with an unconscious Bright. 

Gil held up his hand, hoping to stave them off, “I’m sorry, he...he has night terrors, he was unconscious. Just give me a minute, please.” Gil pleaded as he leaned down closer to Malcolm. “Hey kid, you’re safe.” 

“Gil,” Malcolm’s voice shook from the effort it took to speak, his throat felt raw and angry, his head was fuzzy and throbbing. “I...I hurt Derek.” 

Gil’s heart broke at that, had Malcolm been in a dissociative state this whole time? Was he even aware of what he’d just been through? That he’d solved the case and put his life in danger? “It was an accident, kiddo. Derek knows you didn’t mean to.” Gil promised softly. 

Malcolm moved his head back and forth, tears dripping from his eyes, tracing salty outlines in the dirt covering his cheeks “I didn’t, I swear,” his voice broke from the strain and the smoke. “Why am I here?” 

Gil’s eyes slid closed, as Malcolm’s words confirmed his worst fears. Malcolm had been completely unaware this entire time, “You were caught in a fire, I need you to stay calm and let the doctor’s help you, or else they’ll need to sedate you.” 

Malcolm shook his head again, “No, no no no, no sedatives.” His blue eyes began to grow panicked. 

Gil leaned forward, doing something he hadn’t done for years, not since Malcolm had been a boy, and generally a sleeping one at that, he pressed his lips to the red forehead. Hoping that Malcolm could feel all the love and strength Gil was trying to give him, “I know kid, you remember how to do this right? Focus on five things you can hear,” he encouraged the man when he pulled back, running his fingers through the soot-covered hair. He looked back up at the doctors and nurses, giving them a nod to come closer. Looking back down at his boy, still cradling his head with one hand he smiled, “Four things you feel,” he kept his voice as calm and soft as he could. 

Gil heard Bright’s heart rate coming down, out of his panic attack, “That’s it, good boy. Three things you see.” 

By the time the doctors started talking about a pulmonary edema and getting him started on a round of antibiotics to clean out the fluids, Gil had gotten him completely calm and thankfully was allowed to remain at Malcolm’s side until he was moved to a room. “We’ll monitor him overnight and tomorrow, we want to be sure he doesn’t develop a lung infection. Unfortunately, it’s very likely as he’s got fluid built up. We’re going to drain the lungs, which will be uncomfortable for him since we can’t sedate him. Let us get him settled and then we can come fill in your friends and family.” 

Gil nodded, “Thank you.”

The doctor, Travis was his name, nodded, “Go let them know, they can visit once we’ve got him settled into a room. He’s not out of the woods, but he is stable,” the doctor assured him. 

Gil wish he believed that he finally stepped out of the exam room. He could feel his energy crash off the side of a huge cliff as he stood in the hallway. His heart hammering through his ribs, his face sweating, his eyes stinging with tears. It took every ounce of strength the cop had to keep from crying. He hadn’t felt this distressed since the death of Jackie three years ago. 

Leaning his back up against a wall right outside the exam, he took a slow steadying breath, closing his eyes. This wasn’t the first time he’d faced a suicidal Malcolm, and he had the feeling it wouldn’t be the last either. He didn’t know how he was going to pull their boy through this, but he knew damn well he and Jessica would do it together. 

With that thought in mind, he stood, bracing himself for the verbal onslaught as he steadily made his way out into the waiting room, all the while feeling on completely uneven ground emotionally.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newest update, as always thanks for all the reviews and kudos!

Chapter Eight

  
At some point, while Gil was in the back with Malcolm, someone; a nurse presumably, had the wherewithal to call Ainsley who was Malcolm’s other emergency contact. In turn, Ainsley had clearly either been with or had called Jessica. Because now the tall woman in her usual sharp-dressed shoes and jacket, was pacing the emergency room like a caged animal waiting for its next feeding.   
Fiercely protective blue eyes landed on him before Gil could even take in the rest of the waiting room, and she strode over to him, every ounce the woman of power she portrayed to the rest of the world. “Where is he, how is he? What the hell happened?” her deep voice etched with dread and worry. 

Gil glanced just past her were Derek, JT, and Dani all sat with Ainsley, looking no less worried, but perhaps concealing it a bit better. Bones was oddly spread across Derek’s lap on a couch. His belly lying atop Derek’s thighs. The soothing motions of Derek stroking the fur told Gil it was likely something to do with the dog’s service abilities. 

Taking a deep breath Gil met Jessica’s blue eyes again, blue eyes her son had inherited. He tried not to think about that, he wasn’t telling her terrible news. “He’s alive and stable. The doctor will be out once they get him settled into a room. He’s not sedated, but he is pretty well out of it. He’s scared and hurting and the doctor said there’s some fluid buildup in his lungs. They’re going to keep him tonight and tomorrow to make sure it doesn’t get worse, but for now, they’ve assured me he’s stable.” 

“Oh thank god,” he heard the rush of air leave Jessica’s mouth as she gasped out the small prayer and stepped back, trying quickly to replace her emotional barriers. 

Gil nodded, “That said, we should probably talk, he had a dissociative episode, Jessica. He was sleepwalking and cut Derek up pretty bad when he woke up, we believe he was out of it enough to return to Columbia to solve the case. When we talked in the ambulance and the exam room, it didn’t sound like he remembered anything after cutting Derek.” 

Jessica glanced back over her should at the man with the white bandage around his forearm who appeared to be having his own dissociative episode as he just sat there, petting his dog. She nodded, “I’ll call Gabrielle, perhaps when he’s feeling more himself you could introduce me to this young man?” 

Gil was a bit surprised by Jessica’s request. She rarely requested anything, generally, she took what she felt she’d earned and deserved and damn what anyone else said in response to her. But, perhaps Jessica recognized this as something important enough that she play by society and ultimately, her son’s rules. “I will.” 

They sat back down, Gil on the other side of Derek, gently he set his own handout and began to pet the dog, he knew he wasn’t supposed to pet service dogs, but at the moment he could do with a little of his own calming. 

Gil wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there before Dr. Travis stepped out. As he did, Gil noticed for the first time just how young the man was, possibly Malcolm’s age or maybe even younger. Was it possible for someone so to be capable of helping with such ease? The young blonde ran a hand through his hair before he gave them a cautious smile, “I take it you’re all here for Mr. Bright?” He didn’t want for an answer, clearly understanding their looks of concern and panic sufficiently. “Barring any unexpected complications, I expect Malcolm to make a full recovery. He had what we call a pulmonary edema—“

“Fluid around the lungs,” Jessica whispered.

Travis nodded, “Correct, we’ve done a procedure called a Thoracentesis, it’s where we insert a sizable needle in the space between his lungs and the chest wall to remove that fluid. We’ve drained it for now, but there’s still a lot of inflammation in both his lungs and his throat, you’ll notice his eyes are pretty red and swollen as well. It’s all the irritation from the smoke. We expect most of that to recede over the next few hours. We’ve got him on some high doses of anti-inflammatories, a mild pain killer to keep him comfortable and antibiotics to ward off any infection from the fluid. What all this means is Malcolm is stable for the time being, but he’s likely to be very tired and unable to talk much for the next few days. We’ve put an oxygen mask on his face to help him breathe easier, but he’s already proven he’s not a fan of that.” 

“How long will he need to stay?” Jessica questioned. 

“Let’s start with tonight and most of tomorrow morning. If we can get to lunch tomorrow and he has no further fluid buildup I’m comfortable with letting him go home by early afternoon.” 

“Can we see him?” Derek finally spoke.

Travis smiled, “Of course, keep it short and sweet, and try to keep his talking to a minimum. The less he talks the sooner he’ll get his voice back.” The doctor led the small group to a set of elevators, “Floor 4, room 425.”

“Thank you,” Jessica whispered. 

There was, thankfully, a small waiting room on the 4th floor, where Dani, JT, Ainsley, and Derek all decided to wait, letting Jessica and Gil see Malcolm first. Jessica, however, stopped short when her driver announced he’d brought Gabrielle. “I’m going to go meet her downstairs and fill her in, I’ll be up shortly.”

Malcolm wasn’t asleep, that was the first thing Gil noticed when he stepped inside. Sure the man’s eyes were closed, and beet red, but he could tell the boy was awake by the tenseness in his body.

Sitting down in a nearby chair, Gil picked up the young man’s hand, staring at it. He’d memorized the scars on those wrists, the long narrow ones that went from his wrist to mid-forearm before he’d been caught and stopped. 

“I wish I could take this pain away, kid,” he whispered looking up at the man’s face. 

Blue eyes stared back at him, they looked dull and tired, and nothing like the manic man he’d been talking to only an hour or so earlier. “I wanted to die,” Malcolm murmured in a hoarse whisper. 

Gil nodded, unable to stop the tears from slipping down his cheeks, “I know,” he whispered in return. “But we don’t want that, not me, not your mother, not Ainsley and definitely not Derek.” 

Malcolm met Gil’s eyes once more, before turning his head away, “I’m bad for all of you. I’m toxic. How can you not see that?” 

“Because we love you, why can’t you see that!” snapped Gil. “We love you so much, we’d do anything to spare you this pain, this hunt. But you are absolutely convinced that by being Martin’s son you must be a killer.” 

“I hurt DEREK!” his voice cracked at the shout, causing him to start violently coughing. Gil helped him sit up, rubbed his back until the man was able to catch his wheezy breath as he sat back. His face red and sweaty from exertion. “What if next time I accidentally kill him? Or you, or someone else?” he croaked.

Gil shook his head, and looked at the wall, trying to remember that anger wasn’t going to solve this. “What if you never do? Are you going to live your entire life by what ifs? Because this world is full of them, but you’re the only one who can make that decision.” 

The hospital door opened slowly and a red-eyed Jessica stepped into the room, behind her Gabrielle who looked concerned and tired. Jessica forced a smile onto her face, both Gil and Malcolm could see it was a lie, but they remained quiet. “Well, I must admit this wasn’t how I’d planned to meet your boyfriend, but you weren’t joking, he is very sexy,” she grinned, almost cat-like. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Malcolm groaned as he rolled his eyes. 

Gil met Jessica’s eyes, and they spoke a thousand words with just one glance, words of fear, worry, and horror of what they’d both been through. Gabrielle stepped forward and looked at the two parents, each from different worlds, and while Jessica would deny Gil’s place as a parent in Malcolm’s life, Gabrielle knew Gil was the reason Malcolm was still alive. “May I speak with Malcolm alone for a moment?” 

Gil nodded and followed a quiet Jessica out of the room. They headed back into the waiting room, where JT and Dani quickly spotted them and stood, “How is he?” 

Gil noticed Derek’s head was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed and apparently having lost the fight against exhaustion at last. Bones lay at his feet, quietly observing everything with bright eyes. Something in Gil’s mind wondered if the decision he was about to make was the best one, “Bones, come here boy,” he knelt down, giving the friendly dog a warm pet, “Let’s go see Malcolm.” He hoped Derek wouldn’t mind, he didn’t think the man would.

He opened the door to the hospital room, hearing Gabrielle quietly talking to Malcolm, and looked down at the dog, “He needs you more right now,” he told the shepherd. He didn’t step in after the dog, merely closing the door and walking back to the waiting room. As if understanding the black dog walked into the room, before confidently leaping up onto the bed. 

Gabrielle smirked as she watched the large dog quickly assert itself in Malcolm’s arms. It was the most natural thing in the world because seconds later, Malcolm had his arms around the coarse fur and was burying his face in the dog’s neck. 

“It’s okay to be afraid you’ll hurt someone, Malcolm. But you won’t ever know if you don’t try.” She heard the soft sob emanate from the dog’s neck, where Malcolm’s face was currently soaking his fur. “Something else I want you to remember, Malcolm. Most psychologists will tell you that nurturing is just as important as nature. Just because your father manipulated you into believing you could kill someone, I’ve never seen or heard you acting violent in desire to hurt or cause harm. Even as you sit here now, I can tell you hurting anyone is exactly what you’re trying to avoid. You need to have faith in those who brought you up, Malcolm, and in yourself.” 

Blue eyes looked at her from over Bones, and she gave him a sad smile, she would allow him a few minutes to compose himself, before she spoke again. “Can you remember what happened?” 

He nodded, “It was a nightmare about the woman in the box again. She was strangling me. I got sick in the bathroom and was throwing up. The compulsion to throw up made me think of what else that can cause. That’s when I realized who our killer was.” 

“Good. Malcolm have you ever had a compulsion to hurt someone?” 

Malcolm shook his head, “No, but what--” 

Gabrielle held up her hand, “You can’t control what-ifs, and having guilt for something that you weren’t in control of isn’t achieving anything. This isn’t living, Malcolm. You can’t hop from one murder to another, constantly ignoring the issues you face.” 

“What do I do to avoid this then?” 

Gabrielle considered her answer for a few minutes, “I think for starters, you need to set up boundaries. If someone stays over, then any potentially sharp and dangerous objects need to be locked up. I don’t think restraining you is the answer, I think putting provisions in place to protect you and the other person is what we focus on. We also need to determine what triggers it, though I’m fairly certain we both know the answer to that.” 

“My father.” 

She inclined her head, “Malcolm, it’s like I said after the first time you saw him. If you want to move past this and try to recover, you have to stop letting him control you.” 

Malcolm sat up a bit straighter, gently running his fingers through the dog’s fur, “I still love him,” Malcolm whispered. 

Gabrielle smiled, “Of course you do, he’s still your father and you still have good memories with him. You don’t need to forsake those memories, you do, however, need to separate the man he is from the man he was.” 

“How do I do that?” 

“Well, for your mother it meant pretending your father was basically dead. Mourn him if you need to, accept that the man you knew, who used to play with you and take you on trips, is gone. If you still really want to see your father, we can plan ways to build up your confidence before you go. But that’s not what I would recommend.” 

A knock on the door interrupted them, two pairs of eyes glanced up to see Derek pop his head in the room. His eyes had dark bags under them, his hair stuck out in every direction, and he had an air of fatigue to him. He was now in dark slacks and a scrub shirt. His forearm was wrapped, as he stepped further inside, he nervously picked at his fingernails. “I uh, heard you may want to see me.” He lied honestly, he’d asked Gil if he could come see Malcolm, he was desperate to make sure the man was okay. It was selfish, but he needed to reassure himself. 

Gabrielle turned and looked back at Malcolm, beaming, “You must be Derek,” she stood and greeted him. “I’m Gabrielle.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Derek replied as Bones jumped off the bed and walked over to his owner, sniffing the wounded arm, before giving the bandage a lick. “I’m okay buddy,” he whispered. “Could I talk to Malcolm alone for a minute?” 

Gabrielle smiled, “Of course. Malcolm, consider what I said. You’re never going to have a chance at happiness if you don’t allow yourself to try. I’d like to come back tomorrow before you sign yourself out AMA, is that all right?” 

Malcolm nodded and watched her leave, before turning nervous blue eyes on Derek. “I’m sorry,” they both blurted out at once. 

Derek laughed while Malcolm’s brows furrowed, “What are you sorry, I attacked you.” 

Derek shook his head and moved over to sit on the end of the hospital bed, waited while Bones hopped back up and made himself comfortable between the two of them. “Malcolm, do you know what the word attack means?”

Malcolm scoffed but remained quiet, so Derek spoke again, “It means to intentionally and aggressively try to hurt someone. Did you even know I was in the same room?” 

Malcolm’s eyes drifted down as he shook his head, “No, I thought you were still asleep.” 

“That’s not an attack then, Malcolm,” Derek reasoned as he let his fingers slid over Malcolm’s gently holding the man’s hand in his. “You were defending yourself, and I, as someone who has PTSD and has suffered night terrors, knew damn well I shouldn’t have tried to grab you. So if you’re at fault, am I.” 

“Derek--” Malcolm rasped, but Derek held his hand up to quiet the man, lacing their fingers together. He was quiet for a moment, while they both appreciated the closeness. 

“We can go slower, we can just do dates for a while. I don’t have to stay over, or we can do something to ensure this doesn’t happen again. We don’t have to sleep together. But I’m asking you, don’t give up on us. We’re both going to hurt one another comes, whether it be with words or occasional panic attacks or nightmares.” 

“Can I think about it?” Malcolm asked, still nervous and afraid of hurting Derek. 

“Of course, I can settle with being your friend.” 

Malcolm smiled, “That’d be good.” 

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break before we get into the kidnapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted some adorable fluff before we got deep into more angst, because the end of this and the next story are angst riddled.

Chapter Nine

It had been three days since the fires and closing the case, Penny had recovered and had since been arrested. Her two final victims had more damage to their lungs due to them being in the building longer, but ultimately both had woken up recently and were showing signs of improvement. Dr. Travis had managed to keep Malcolm in the hospital just long enough to give him aftercare instructions. An ensuing argument with Gil and Jessica about not needing a babysitter had ended with Malcolm going home with Derek or Dani around to help as needed. 

Gil was currently on his way to visit his surrogate son when he unlocked the door and heard something he hadn’t heard in a long time...laughter. No, the fake laughs Malcolm put on for people, but an honest to god belly laugh. As he peeked around the stairs he felt a smile spread across his bearded features. 

Sitting in the living room were JT, Dani, Derek, and Malcolm. In Malcolm’s case, he was bundled up in blankets and sitting between Dani and Derek on the couch. JT was in a chair, they were clearly watching a movie, Gil recognized it to be Backdraft as the foursome constantly pointed out complete and utter inaccuracies of the movie. 

As Gil drew closer, still going unnoticed by his “children” he saw a familiar pair of ears perk up and the head came up from where it was nestled between Derek and Malcolm’s laps. With that, the four turned and they all smiled up at Gil. “Gil,” Malcolm’s voice was huskier than usual, and still sounded painful when he spoke, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he had a genuine smile on his face that made Gil’s heart soar. 

“I was just coming to see if you had eaten dinner yet,” Gil replied, suddenly nervous if he’d interrupted, would the four younger individuals want him to leave. 

Derek beamed as Malcolm looked over to him, before Malcolm spoke again, “We were planning to have Gaspatcho, apparently Derek’s Abuela makes a killer gazpacho and Derek thinks it’ll make my throat less sore.” It was the first time Gil could remember his kid excited to eat, well...since Jackie anyway. “You should stay, we’re watching Police Academy next.” 

Gil glanced at the other three, making sure they were interested and was pleasantly surprised when they all nodded with Malcolm’s suggestion. “I think I can manage that. Could I steal Derek for a minute?” he asked gently. 

Malcolm’s brows went from happy to a little furrowed, nervousness lining his features, “Is everything okay?” 

Gil smiled patting his kid on the shoulder, “Relax kid, just wanted to update him on going back to work, I talked to his Captain,” he lied, hoping none of his tells were too obvious. 

Derek smiled, and scooted Bones off their lap before he stood and followed Gil out of the apartment. Well aware that Malcolm would be tracking their every move with his eyes. Gil closed the door, considering his words as he looked at Derek. “Is this the shovel talk?” Derek asked with a smirk. 

Gil turned to him, his face serious enough that Derek’s own smile immediately disappeared, “Does it need to be?” He asked, letting every inch of the cop and father in him show. 

The smirk slid away instantly and Derek swallowed thickly, “No sir?” 

Gil nodded, “Look, Malcolm...I’ve known that kid in there since he was ten. Biologically he isn’t mine, but family isn’t about blood and I think you know that. I think you’re good for Malcolm, I really do, god knows I haven’t seen him this happy since…” Gil sighed, “Not since my wife died. I just want to make sure you aren’t planning to run at the first sign of real struggles.” 

Derek studied the man before him, his own personal respect for Gil growing, he’d seen the two men interact and could tell there was more there than just a subordinate and boss relationship.

“Malcolm describes himself as broken, and I think a lot of people in this world would see him as something fragile that needs protecting.” 

“And you?” 

Derek considered his words, “I think sometimes, the broken item can be more beautiful and perfect than the original object. Malcolm isn’t anymore fragile than me or JT. I know he has issues and yes I’m fairly sure we’ve only scratched the surface. But if he’ll let me, I want to be there for all of it, the good, the bad and the ugly. It what I hope he wants from me too.” Derek explained. 

Gil studied the younger man for a long moment, he had a hunch the man who stood before him would one day be so much more than just Malcolm’s love interest or boyfriend. He hoped beyond hope that one day Derek would be what Jackie had been for Gil. His equalizer, his constant. “Good, well, in that case, you should know my Abuela also made a really good gazpacho and I know that kid has tried it, so let's see who’s wins?” 

Derek chuckled, “You’re on.” 

Gil flung an arm across the man’s shoulder as they headed back inside, his chest feeling light for the first time in a very long time. 

A week and a half later, the team was once more around a table, but this time it was Gil’s, his warm small apartment he’d once shared with his wife. Instead of feeling cold and empty it felt filled with love again. JT, Dani, and Tally were arguing over where to put the Christmas tree and what to hang where, Derek and Ainsley were trying to untie the Christmas lights, and Malcolm was happily humming...humming in Gil’s kitchen, while Gil and Jessica helped with dinner. Jessica had been strongly against having Thanksgiving anywhere but her house. But when Malcolm and Ainsley had told her they were going to Gil’s she's acquiesced and agreed to join them when Gil had invited her. It wasn’t actually Thanksgiving of course, that had been two days earlier, which they’d all worked on. This was the first day off they’d all had and agreed to do the dinner. 

Jessica kept glancing over her shoulder at her son who seemed to have a pep in his step, a constant smile on his face and a warm word for anyone. Occasionally, she’d catch Gil looking over at her, she gave him a relieved smile. Jessica considered the man who was currently checking the pies in the oven, she had once seen Gil as a frustration, he got her son involved with police work and obsessed with murder. But in the twenty years the Arroyo’s and Whitly’s had known one another, she’d only ever seen Gil be kind and loving to her son. She imagined their relationship was the very definition of co-parenting. She wondered if perhaps she should start giving him a bit more leeway on his relationship with her son. 

Jessica’s thoughts turned towards Derek, in the mere two weeks her son had known Derek she’d seen significant differences. The man had a smile on his face more often, his tremors were negligible, he even seemed less obsessed with the girl in the box, though Jessica had a feeling that was more to do with the FBI taking over than Derek. The man wasn’t perfect, she knew that much, but he seemed good for Malcolm. 

“All right, the turkey looks done,” Gil’s voice broke her from her reverie, and she smiled as Malcolm gathering, everyone. 

“He looks happy, doesn’t he?” Jessica whispered watching her son leave the room. 

Gil looked at Jessica and reached out giving her shoulder a squeeze, “He’s going to be fine, Jessica.” 

She looked back at him, “I’m actually starting to believe that.” 

As they all sat down to dinner, food in front of them, the conversation broke out into favorite stories of when they were kids. The laughter and talking over one another as loud, and as Gil sat back a bit and watched his family and his ‘children’ laughing, he could help but smile and desperately wish Jackie were here to witness it. He was surprised when he felt a light touch on his hand and looked over to see Jessica give his hand a squeeze, and a small smile. He gripped her hand in return, his own eyes a little damp and smiled himself. Before he dove into one of his favorite stories about Malcolm, “One time this knucklehead insisted on coming with me on a stakeout, I kid you not he spent the next three hours whining about it.” 

“It was atrociously boring,” Malcolm supplied with a laugh. 

“Shit bro, I could’ve told you that,” snickered JT. 

“Police work is--” 

“Patience!” JT, Dani, and Malcolm all finished for Gil who just laughed and smiled. 

One Month later

“Are you sure you want to watch this?” Derek asked for what must have been the hundredth time that night as they sat down on the couch with Malcolm. 

“I...I have to, Der,” Malcolm reasoned.

Malcolm had come to Derek two days ago and asked if his friend would watch his sister’s special on Christmas Eve. Honestly, Derek had been hesitant to say yes, worried about Malcolm watching it, but when he saw the desperation in his friend’s eyes, he couldn’t deny the man. 

So there they sat on Malcolm’s couch together, next to one another, once again with Bones settled across their laps, “Tonight on American Direct News” the announce spoke and Martin’s face appeared on the television, Derek felt his chest clench at the sight of the man who’d caused so much damage to the man beside him. 

“What consoles me is that as a doctor, I saved thousands of lives,” Martin reasoned, “So if we're judging the moral worth of a person based on the mark they leave on the world, mine is a net positive.” Derek felt the sudden urge to shove his fist through Martin’s face. 

“Dr. Martin Whitly murdered 23 people as The Surgeon, making him one of the world's most notorious serial killers. I'm Ainsley Whitly for American Direct News, and The Surgeon is my father.” 

Another shot of Martin on the screen and Derek glanced over to see Malcolm’s hand trembling around the remote. “I was, um, a mentor. I'm not a perfect man. It's true. Isn't that what counts?” His voice echoed some, “That in the end, I did some good?” Suddenly the rational calm doctor turned shifted as Ainsley asked the next question. 

“What kind of a father does that?”

“Stop it! I was a good father, damn it! Say that again. Say I was a terrible father!” The man stood, anger seething on his face, looking positively feral. Derek could see Malcolm trembling all over before Derek could say anything there was a crash, and both men looked up to see a stiletto stuck in the now shattered TV screen.

“Mother,” Malcolm huffed as they looked back over their shoulder at Jessica. “My TV!” 

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to watch this dribble,” she insisted.   
Malcolm clenched his jaw as he walked over to his ruined TV, “You agreed, I thought it best not to argue with you. Is this how you’re going to foil Ainsley’s ratings? By destroying every television in America?” he asked as he pulled the shoe out. His mother waved her hand for him to return it, “God knows you have enough shoes.” He mumbled as an afterthought, before handing her shoe back. 

“I thought you were devoting your life to being normal,” as if to prove a point she gestured to Derek who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“I can’t ignore the world and the case, Mother.”

Jessica let out a tired breath before she spoke again, and clearly spoke about what she’d really come here to discuss, “Why didn't you tell me? The girl in the box. The memories. You have proof. They're all real.” 

Malcolm just stared in shock at his mother, “How did you...Gil,” he sighed. “Mother I can’t be normal because of him,” Malcolm said, gesturing back to the broken screen where his feral looking father was paused in a fit of rage.

“We told you they weren't real for years. Of course, you're not normal. How could you be?” Jessica questioned, stepping closer to her son. Derek meanwhile was trying to determine if there was a safe way to get out of this incredibly awkward position between mother and son. 

“It's not your fault. Or Gil's. Martin Whitly did this to me. He manipulated me, he drugged me.” 

“Drugged you?” Jessica said in shock, Derek had to admit he felt a bit shocked himself at that. 

“He used chloroform. To confuse me. To help me forget,” Malcolm explained, his hand trembling again, Derek reached out, and gently laced their fingers together, reminding Malcolm he was there for him. 

Jessica sank to the other end of the couch, “I thought he loved you. That at least he took care of you, and your sister,” she looked devastated, her normally strong shoulders hunching in slightly, despair filling her eyes as she looked back up at her son, “I’m sorry.” 

Malcolm sighed and took a seat between the two, “Thank you. But you don't have to say that.

“I really do,” she replied softly, “And I have to clear the air before tomorrow night.” At her son’s vacant expression she rolled her eyes, “Christmas, dear. It's an annual holiday? Maybe you've noticed the decorations and that handsy Santa outside Gristedes? “

Derek couldn’t help the snort as he shook his head, he’d had to treat a Santa who’d been pepper-sprayed last week. Malcolm sighed as he looked back at the screen again, “I'm not feeling very festive.”

“Your father has taken so much from us. Don't let him take this,” she told him, cupping his chin, her thumb caressing his jawline. “You’re invited too, Derek.” 

“Oh great, here I thought I was invisible,” he joked as she stood and made her way out of the apartment. 

Malcolm groaned as he looked back over at his TV, “She’s paying for that.” 

“Well, I’m fairly sure she can afford it,” Derek reasoned as he watched Malcolm melt back into the couch. “I know we agreed on not getting one another Christmas gifts, what with not really being boyfriends--” 

“Are you upset about that?” Malcolm interrupted him. 

Derek’s brows furrowed, “What, no. Malcolm, I’m here because I care about you. I’ll wait forever if that’s what you want. I don’t mind. What I’m saying is I have a gift for you and I was hoping you’d open it.” 

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as he glanced around the apartment, “Where have you been hiding it?” 

“I put it in your bathroom, about twenty minutes ago when you were ordering dinner.” 

Malcolm got a delighted gleam in his eye as he stood and moved towards the bathroom, Derek followed with a smirk on his face. Malcolm looked at the door he could hear small noises on the other side, pushing the door open slowly his mouth dropped open. 

There on a towel, surrounded by little stuffed toys, and a water and food dish was a precious little pitbull puppy. She was brown with a white snip of white between her eyes and down around her muzzle. She looked up at Malcolm and let out a mighty, but tiny little bark, before wandering over to him and trying to climb up his sweats clad leg. A small noise that Derek could only describe as a coo escaped Malcolm’s mouth as he knelt down and picked up the puppy. She had white little toes and was insistently licking his face and nose. 

“Do you like her?” Derek asked with a grin on his face as he watched Malcolm rub his nose against her head. 

“She’s precious, but I’m not exactly dad material.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, “You think you aren’t dad material. I’ve seen you with kids, and with Sunshine. Plus, I spoke to Gabrielle, before I bought the dog, she agrees that training your own Service dog might help you feel in control when the rest of your life feels out of control. She can always stay with me and Bones while you’re at work like he does with you when I’m at work. JT and Tally have also agreed to take them when we’re working. She can also learn from Bones.”   
Malcolm smiled and looked back down at the little girl in his arms, she once again started kissing him with her velvet tongue as she wiggled in his arms. “I think she’s perfect, thank you,” Malcolm whispered. 

“Merry Christmas, Malcolm,” Derek smiled as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Malcolm’s cheek, getting his own puppy kisses for the act. 

Malcolm turned his head just slightly and captured Derek’s lips. As they pulled apart, the electricity surging between the two of them, Malcolm put the little girl down, she instantly hurried over to Bones and began trying to climb on him. Before Malcolm returned to kissing Derek, backing him up against the bed. 

“You sure?” Derek asked. 

Malcolm nodded, “I’ve been ready for a while, just needed to know it was okay,” he whispered as he let his fingers caress Derek’s abs under his sweater before he lifted it up over his head.  
Derek’s arms returned to wrap around Malcolm’s waist, pulling his own shirt off over his head. Derek let his lips wander over Malcolm’s lips, jaw and down his neck, smirking as the man moaned beneath his warm lips. 

Malcolm pushed Derek down onto the bed, climbing over him and pressing their hips together, “You’re beautiful,” he murmured as he let Derek continue his path down his chest until his mouth covered one of Malcolm’s nipples. 

Derek smirked as he heard pleasurable little huffs of hair, his hands slid down under Malcolm’s sweatpants, squeezing his ass cheeks and drawing them closer, grinding their cocks against one another. “Not so bad yourself, detective,” he replied. Malcolm smirked and reached under his pillow, pulling out the lube and handing it to Derek, who just chuckled, “You really were planning this weren’t you?” 

“Merry Christmas,” Malcolm replied playfully as he pushed the lube into the firefighter’s hand, “Now get moving,” he replied. 

Derek made relatively quick work of getting Malcolm ready before they both removed their sweats and underwear, and Malcolm lined up, sinking down onto Derek’s erection. The two men groaned in pleasure, as they remained still for a moment, breathing heavily into one another. 

“Is she going to keep me up all hours of the night?” Malcolm asked as he glanced over to see his puppy was currently chewing on Bones’ ear, the shepherd was just lying there letting it happen, though his eyes did look like they were pleading to be rescued. 

“Probably at first, yes,” joked Derek as he started moving his hips. 

Malcolm let out a luscious moan as he felt the movement as Derek hit his prostate, he felt like he saw stars, his own erection already straining. One of Derek’s hands slid down Malcolm’s hips and gripped him, pulling and twisting slightly. 

Neither man lasted very long as they crested over the orgasms almost together, Malcolm’s pulling Derek down with him. They lay there for a few minutes, both breathing heavily. “What’re you going to name her?” Derek asked after a few minutes. Malcolm had pulled off and was curled up on his side next to Derek. 

“Mmm, Athena,” he said smiling, his own orgasmic high making him feel light and airy. 

“Goddess of wisdom, I like it,” Derek replied. Before he glanced over to hear the scampering of paws and saw Athena trying desperately to climb up onto the bed. “Merry Christmas, Malcolm,” Derek whispered, as he pulled the puppy up and turned to press a kiss to Malcolm’s forehead. 

“Merry Christmas Derek,” Malcolm replied softly, his eyes closing as he pressed a kiss of his own to Derek’s shoulder. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had some fun with this chapter, admittedly Gil, Dani, JT and Malcolm are all a wee bit out of character at points, but I'd like to think if someone handed you a puppy (and in Malcolms case sex), you'd be a bit out of character (and more confident) too.

Despite having plans to set boundaries, both men fell asleep in bed together, however, this time something was different. Bones soon joined them on the large bed, and since Athena was still fairly young they had to get up every couple hours to take her outside. 

As Malcolm woke Christmas morning to the feeling of a little tongue licking his nose, chin, and cheeks, he let his eyes flutter open and smiled. He had slept through the night. Granted, it had been interrupted by taking a dog outside, but it had been just long enough in between that he’d never gotten far enough into any of his night terrors. He looked at his arms and realized he’d never been restrained either. A soft chuckle escaped his mouth as Athena tried to burrow under his blankets and snuggle closer. 

Malcolm was on his side, he could feel the long firm figure of Derek behind him, though it felt like Derek was facing the opposite way of him. So Malcolm rolled over, puppy and all and had to giggle at the sight before him. Derek was fast asleep on his stomach, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed. Bones, who had indeed joined them at some point in the evening, was sprawled across Dere’s back, ensuring the man couldn’t turn. His muzzle pressed close to Derek’s ear. 

“God help his bladder when he wakes up,” joked Malcolm. 

“I’m awake,” he heard the mumble in the pillow beside him, “I have to get up in an hour anyway, just letting him do his thing.”   
Malcolm smiled as he lay there and looked at Derek, who turned his head to meet his eyes. “Hey gorgeous,” Derek whispered, his voice a little breathy due to having a seventy-some pound dog on top of him. 

“Hey yourself,” Malcolm replied before his phone started to chirp, “I’m guessing that’s my wake up call. Will I see you tonight for dinner?” 

Derek chuckled and pressed a kiss to Malcolm’s lips, “I’m going to be on duty, so probably not. But how about tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow sounds wonderful, what are we doing about little miss thing here?” Malcolm asked with a grin as he kissed her head. 

“Take her with you, it’ll give Dani and JT something to coo over. Besides she’s technically going to be a service dog, the more often she’s with you or longer, the better for her to create that bond. If she gets to be too much bring her to me, the guys at the station will go crazy for her.” 

Malcolm smiled, giving Derek another kiss as the man stood and made quick work of getting dressed. Another minute and both he and Bones were headed out for the day. Malcolm looked down at the dark brown eyes watching him from where the puppy sat on his bed, “I guess you’re coming with me, little miss. So let’s go see what Derek bought to make sure you’re prepared.” 

Once he’d gone through his morning routine, which now included puppy potty breaks, Malcolm headed into the bathroom where the pup had been hid the evening before and was pleased to find a small box of toys, two small bowls, a towel and a leash that was attached to a small pink collar. “Right then, we’ll have to get you a name tag in the next day or two, but for now this will work.” He put the collar around her neck, making sure it was big enough that she wouldn’t choke. Malcolm found a couple tougher looking toys that could probably stand up to her sharp puppy teeth, then cleaned out both the bowels and wrapped them in his towel, putting them at the bottom of his messenger bag. He then placed Athena on top of the towel, “Right then, try and...act natural. Don’t make it weird,” he encouraged, before he closed the flap, leaving it unlatched and headed out the door. 

Malcolm arrived at the fancy hotel just as two children rushed past him giggling, the lobby was filled with Christmas music and festive cheer and briefly, Malcolm wondered how he’d missed that it was Christmas. Then again, he realized his every few minutes had been consumed by figuring out how he knew Paul Lazar. 

Gil gave him a warm smile, “Sorry to call you in on Christmas,” he offered. Though Gil was willing to guess aside from dinner with his mother tonight, the boy didn’t have plans. 

Malcolm just returned the smile and shrugged, “It's okay. I was in the neighborhood caroling. No sign of ESU or CSU?” He asked, brows furrowing as he looked around for the usual entourage that followed them wherever they went. 

“They're already upstairs. We're keeping this quiet,” Gil reasoned. 

Malcolm figured this was a perfect moment to point out that Gil had tattled on him about the woman in the box, “Oh, yeah? Keeping secrets doesn't seem to be your strong suit. My mother dropped by last night.”

“She was gonna find out soon enough. Better it came from one of us.” Gil didn’t like telling Jessica anything when he didn’t have to, he wanted Malcolm to trust him. But ultimately Jessica had needed to know, she’d had the right to know that they’d been wrong all along. 

Malcolm was vaguely aware of the restless puppy moving inside the bag at his side, “Are there any updates in the Paul Lazar case I need to know about?”

“I don't have any answers. Neither does the FBI. Their task force is moving into the precinct.”

Malcolm’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh, they'll want to question me.”

Gil chuckled, knowing the fact that the FBI was shutting him out so abruptly was praying on all the kid’s anxieties. Still, the way the Agent in charge had been acting, Gil couldn’t help but think ‘yep that’s my boy’ when she’d discussed how he railroaded nearly everyone. “They very much do not want to question you. The special agent in charge is Colette--”

‘Damnit’ Malcolm thought, “Swanson? We worked together in D.C. She hates me.” 

Gil chuckled at that, “Oh, yeah. Said to keep you out of her way.”

“That all she said?” He asked skeptically.

“There were other words, but why ruin your holidays? Come on. I got something that'll cheer you up,” they headed to the elevator, where they stepped inside. A small bark of frustration followed my an adorable head peeking out of Malcolm’s bag made Gil jump as he looked down. 

“Is...is that a puppy?” he asked, trying to process the idea of his boy having his own “child” to suddenly care for. 

“Don’t make it weird,” Malcolm joked as he stroked the silky fur on the puppy’s head. “Derek got her to be my service dog. He encouraged me to bring her to bond a bit today. I….if you’re upset I can take her to the fire station, Derek said that would be okay.” 

Gil rolled his eyes and reached over, flipping the bag open he scooped the puppy out of the bag and brought her up to his face, “Well hello there, you must be my new granddaughter,” he smiled as he brought her up to his lips to give her a kiss. She returned the favor, licking his face enthusiastically, “Oh no, this little one can hang out with us all day, isn’t that right sweetheart. What’d you name her?” 

“Athena,” Malcolm replied as they stepped off the elevator. At the end of the hall stood JT and Dani. “Merry Christmas!” he greeted, getting an irritated glare from JT and a smirk from Dani. “Happy Hannuka?” he offered again, before blowing past him and into the room. 

“I should be at home eating my wife’s Kringle,” JT corrected, his eyes landed on the puppy in Gil’s arms, that was presently nipping at the man’s goatee and chin. “Is that…”   
Gil nodded, “Don’t make it weird, she’s the newest member of our team, Dani, JT this is Athena. She’ll be Malcolm’s service dog once she’s all trained up, isn’t that right sweetheart,” he cooed again, kissing her. 

“Amazing, want to see a grown man talk like an idiot, just hand him a baby or a puppy,” snickered Dani. 

“I don’t discriminate,” Gil replied, “I like kittens too.” With that, he and Athena headed into the room.

“What’s a Kringle?” Malcolm finally asked as they all stepped into the room to take in the view of the dead prostitute and man on the couch. 

“It’s a pastry, play your cards right and I might save you a piece tomorrow.” JT glanced over at Gil, “You gonna keep her the whole day, or share her?” he asked. 

Gil twisted away slightly, “This is my first grandchild, you can wait your turn,” he replied playfully, causing Dani and Malcolm both to snicker slightly as Dani began explaining the crime scene. 

It was going well until Malcolm took the revolver in his hand and started waving it around, instantly it set Gil on edge. He knew that boy was aware of how to properly handle a gun, he’d made damn sure to teach him, even if profilers weren’t required to carry. He wanted the kid to know how to handle one in case it was a life or death situation. 

When Malcolm put it to his head, Gil swore for a second his heart stopped. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was!?” Gil snapped as soon as the gun had been taken away from his kid. Of course, Malcolm brushed it off, but Gil wasn’t likely to forget it any time soon. His kid. It had been years since he’d seen his boy suicidal, is it possible he was again? He let the kid finish up, and remained silent until they’d climbed into his car before he handed Athena back. Gil just sat there for a moment. 

“Are you still upset about the gun, I didn’t know it was loaded,” reasoned Malcolm. 

Gil shook his head and looked over at the man, “Rule number one, Malcolm. What’s rule number one of gun safety, you should know I taught it to you the day you graduated from Harvard and told me you were headed to Quantico. You might also recall it was the only day both your mother and Jackie refused to speak to me.” 

“Always check to see if it’s loaded,” Malcolm replied, still holding Athena in his arms. 

“Always check if it’s loaded, so not only did you do that, but what else did you do?” 

Malcolm sighed, “I waved it around.” 

Gil softened his voice slightly, barrelling ahead with this kid had never been the answer, he needed...well kid gloves sometimes. “Do you need to tell me something, Malcolm. Are you suicidal again? I need to know kid, it’s okay if you are, if you feel overwhelmed, you’ve been through a lot and I know it hasn’t all been easy…” 

Malcolm opened his mouth to deny it then stared back out the windshield, “I really, really like Derek, Gil. More than I can even put into words, yet I feel...how can I ever expect a normal life when I’m struggling to deal with these issues, or when I’m on all these pills. There are still days when I wake up and I think...maybe it’d just be easier.” 

Gil was quiet for a minute, “Kid, no one is normal, it’s a relative term. Maybe for you, normal is exactly what you’re doing. No one says you have to be happy all the time son, or that you have to love every moment of life. You can have days where you’re living for someone else’s sake. Where you’re skating by.” 

“Do you ever feel that way?” Malcolm asked, his voice soft as he looked over at Gil. 

Gil remained silent at first, thinking about his life in the last three years. He realized he needed to be honest with Malcolm, completely even if it meant admitting his own darkest moments, “You saw me after Jackie, kid. It was, it was great having you those first couple weeks, believe me, I’ll never forget how thankful I was for you. But...yeah there were a lot of days where I didn’t even want to get out of bed, much less come to work and pretend everything was okay.” Gil allowed himself to reflect on his strong and beautiful wife, “There are days like that now. God, I miss her…” he stopped, looking out the driver’s side window. Wiping at his eyes with his thumb and fingers. He took a slow breath, trying to keep his feelings in check. “Every morning when I get up, I do it because I remember Jackie would want you to know you’re still loved and cared for.” Finally, he looked back over at the boy he and Jackie had helped raise for nearly fifteen years together. The boy they’d loved like a son. “So please, don’t leave me kiddo.” 

“I’m not going anyway, Gil. We’re stuck together,” Malcolm offered quietly. 

They stood in the briefing room and had just started going over the details of their new case, Dani sitting in her usual position on the table, although now she had a sleeping puppy curled up in her arms. Who she would occasionally lean down and kiss, “You know, I’m pretty sure we’re going to spoil her for your service dog training long before she actually gets to the training part,” Dani pointed out. 

Malcolm chuckled, “I think she can afford a couple weeks of being spoiled rotten before we start making her work all the time. Besides, the research I’ve been doing shows that dogs do have downtime, so it’s only fair she knows that she doesn’t have to work all the time.” 

Suddenly the door opened and Colette Swanson walked in, Malcolm felt cold dread churn in his stomach, “Let’s set up in here,” she instructed the people behind her. “Good morning, Lieutenant Arroyo. Thank you for this accommodation.” She thanked the man, though her eyes still remained focused on Bright. 

“Anything for the FBI, though I’m not sure I had a choice,” he grumbled as he looked over at Dani and JT. 

“Special Agent. No, wait. That's not right. What the hell do they call you around here?” Her attitude screamed snarky and rude, her eyes seemed to bleed hatred and tempered rage. 

Bright took a slow breath, reminding himself it wasn’t polite to hit women, no matter how much he hated them. She was like every awful girl in high school all over again. “Hello, Colette. "Bright" usually works,” he answered. She knew full well of course and had never called him that, not once in her time at the FBI. 

“Ah. Not for me. My task force has taken over the Paul Lazar case--”

“The Junkyard Killer, I know. We've been looking into his past. Paul's motives are based on a deep self-hatred. He was likely raised by a single mother who--” 

Her chuckle silenced him as she crossed her arms over her chest, “Wow. Less than 30 seconds to get to the bad mom. That must be a new record.” 

“I was just--”

“Blaming a woman for a man's misdeeds? Yeah, I caught that, too,” She replied, tongue between her teeth, almost pleased with herself. 

“Aw hell naw,” muttered JT as he stood and walked away from the woman, Malcolm vaguely heard him mutter something about not wanting to get fired today as he came to stand behind Bright and further away from Colette. 

“I was simply pointing out that serial killers aren't just born, they're also made,” Malcolm explained as calmly as he could, though said calm was rapidly exiting the building. 

“And sometimes they're just born,” she replied, staring at him hard. 

He paused and smiled, “Name one.” 

That made her startle as if she’d clearly expected to win the fight, and why not, the Malcolm Bright she’d known had been a big-headed, full of himself genius, who’d flaunted his knowledge but was easily put in his place with a harsh glare or firm tone. That was before he’d come back to New York before he’d found a team and a family who he knew would have his back if he decided to do this.

“Excuse me?” She demanded. 

Malcolm shot a glance over at Gil and could see the man caught somewhere between annoyed and silently pleased, “I said name one,” he encouraged her. “You know so much about profiling, perhaps you’d like to wow my team.” 

“Ted Bundy--” 

“Was raised in a lie by his grandmother and mother and forced to believe his mother was his sister for years,” Malcolm quickly countered.   
She clenched her jaw, “Jeffrey Dahmer--” 

“His parents were loudly fighting constantly and he showed early on a tendency towards violence in animals as well as dysmorphia around his sexuality. Perhaps you’d like to continue,” he encouraged her as he stepped closer, “But probably not since you only got the position you’re in now because I got canned. Why did that happen again? Oh, right I hit a sheriff who killed someone in cold blood. But I’m the bad guy, good luck finding your serial killer, but I think you’ll find it’s going to take far more brains, and a hell of a lot more class than you’ve got,” he returned, his tone was even and calm the whole time, but he was well aware that both Dani and Gil were trying desperately to hide their smirks. 

“What about you, were you created?” she asked, instantly it felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. 

Malcolm smiled, “Not by mommy issues, no. But then I’m also not a serial killer, you’re confusing me with my father, easy to do his name is Martin and he’s locked up,” Malcolm turned on his heel and strode out of the room, hands stuffed in his pockets and head held high. 

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is kidnapped, and everyone finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a number of people on Discord's Brimel channel can likely tell you, these last four chapters, while written in one form or another for nearly a month now, has been my white whale of sorts (google it if you don't get that reference). I wrote it in fragments, based on scenes I had in my head then went back and altered and worked on them. I can't say with I'm absolutely thrilled with them, I'm not. As a whole, I'm so proud of this story and the relationship in it. That said, I decided to approach the kidnapping from the aspect of I was less concerned about what happened to Malcolm and more concerned with how he fares after it, which is what the next story will focus on. So the kidnapping aspect of this story is short, about two chapters. If I'd wanted I could've written a whole other story, that said if you'd like to read what I imagine to happen go read Messiah by SomeRainMustFall (finish my story first please) who has done an exquisite job of detailing what I'd like to think happened.

JT stepped out into the bullpen behind Malcolm, well aware that Gil was still arguing with Swanson over borrowing Dani. “How good did that feel?” JT asked as he stood beside Malcolm. He noticed the younger man’s hand was shaking, but kept it to himself. Malcolm didn’t reply, but the small smirk that graced his features felt like a win to JT. “You good, bro?” 

Malcolm’s head snapped over to him, “You never call me that.” 

“Oh god, here we go, are you going to psychoanalyze it?” JT replied looking over at the shorter man, his arms crossed one brow raised. 

Malcolm instantly scoffed, though JT could tell that was exactly what the kid wanted to do, “No! Just...anyway. I’m fine.” His shaky hand told a different story, one which he immediately clenched and stuffed into his pocket. 

JT raised his eyebrows in disbelief but nodded all the same, “Right. Let me know if Gil believes that line when you feed it to him.” 

It was several hours later, and having a gun shoved in his face, that Malcolm found himself back at his desk rifling through their old files, the door to the briefing room opened and Dani stepped out, still holding Athena in her arms. 

“That woman is a monster,” Dani whispered as she handed over the sleeping puppy. 

Malcolm chuckled as he accepted his ball of fluff, “Dare I ask why? Though, I’m not disagreeing with you.” 

Dani shook her head, “She doesn’t like puppies, who doesn’t like puppies?” 

“Crazy people,” Malcolm replied grinning. “How’s your case going?” 

Dani sighed as she leaned against the desk next to him, “Not well, how about yours, you’re looking a bit rough, everything okay?” 

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m guaranteed to screw this thing up with Derek, and I’m being haunted by horrible memories of my childhood.” 

“What do you mean, I thought everything was going great?” Dani questioned. 

Malcolm nodded, “It was but, I don’t know...I just have this feeling like, he deserves better.” 

“Bright, you’re selling yourself short, I don’t think he cares about better or worse.” 

“I can’t be fixed, what happens when he learns that?” Malcolm whispers, his icy eyes shining with desperation.

She pursed her lips, pressing her hands together, before clenching them between her legs, “I don’t think that’s true. And I don’t think he’s going to care, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Bright. When you aren’t looking at him, he is looking at you, and I promise it’s not a look of someone who’s terrified by you. He knows what he got into, and I don’t think he minds at all,” she smiled, tucking the hair behind her ear, “I know what we got into, and in less than a year, you’ve won over almost everyone. Besides how much about his past do you know? Sure you have some basics, but you’re still in the early stages of this. It’s like you said, we’re all a little broken. Just take it one day at a time.” 

“I’m barely stable, do you really think I can be in a stable relationship?” Malcolm questioned. 

Dani smiled as she reached out and pet the puppy’s silky fur again, “I think you already are. Merry Christmas, Bright.” 

Malcolm’s eyes suddenly widened, “And I’m late for Christmas dinner, give Athena to Gil, my mother will kill me if I bring a dog into her house.” Before she could even reply she had the puppy pressed back into her arms again and her friend was off like the whirlwind that was Malcolm Bright. All motions and activity, all chaos and a cacophony of noise, but among it all, at the center as bright as the sun, shone Malcolm Bright.

It was later, standing in the doorway to a house that may have at one point been where John Watkins/Paul Lazar may have lived, they’d knocked once already, as he tried not to shiver in his heavy woolen coat when he heard and felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He assumed it’d be Ainsley whining to him about their mother. Instead, he found it was Gil, answering it, he quickly explained they were following up on a lead and hung up as Matilda came to the door. Something deep in his gut made Malcolm pause, he clicked on the most recent text messages from Gil, and quickly typed out the address to Gil. 

\-----

Gil felt sick as he was hung up on, something was churning in his stomach, it was like his own personal Malcolm danger beacon. Going off and blaring louder than anything that could be heard in the bullpen. He stepped around his desk, stopping at his door when his phone went off, Malcolm texted him and address. Gil wasn’t sure why that made him more afraid, but suddenly he felt like he was standing in the center of a SWAT raid, without any gear on him, not even a gun. Facing down an army of men who all wanted him dead, “Shit kid, what the hell have you done this time,” he whispered. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself for the inevitable shitstorm he was now going to have to battle, he opened his door and stepped out into the bullpen. “Colette, The Junkyard Killer murdered Turner and Emily, Bright’s got a lead on him now,” Gil explained as he walked out of his office, unable to shake the feeling of uneasiness that had settled into the pit of his stomach. 

Somehow Colette found a way to make it about Malcolm screwing her over, “What? Your boy was working this case the whole time after I explicitly told him not to?” She demanded clearly furious, hands on her hips in power mode. 

Gil had had it, he was done biting his tongue, he stepped in closer, jaw clenched shaking with rage and frustration, “No, actually my boy was trying to solve a different murder when we managed to realize that that murder was probably to lure my boy in. So while you’re busy trying to pull your head out of your ass, his ass is the one in danger. Now are you going to actually do your damn job, or did you want me to call and tell the Commissioner what a useless piece of trash profiler you are? I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have the guy who caught the Junkyard Killer back.” he growled, before turning on his heel and stalking towards the exit, “Dani, JT, let’s go.” 

He knew damn well there’d be repercussions for yelling at an FBI agent. Although in fairness, she hadn’t exactly been cooperative either, but Malcolm had solved several cases already the commissioner thus far had been comfortable with Bright’s position on Gil’s team. 

As the three climbed into the car, Gil handed his cell off to Dani, “This is where he went, why aren’t you telling her?” 

Gil shook his head, “I don’t know what we’re about to find, but I sure as hell don’t want them ruining a crime scene, something isn’t right about her. She’s been hung up on this case for longer than she should, there’s more here.” It could get him fired, but for the life of him, Gil didn’t have it in him to care. Not when it came to Malcolm, not his son. He pressed his foot harder to the gas, gunning it through the emptier than normal streets of New York. 

The trio knocked on the door and Gil felt something oddly familiar about the scene as he waited, vibrating with anxiety and fear. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, certainly not some little old blind lady in a moo-moo, “Whaddya want?” She demanded. 

She didn’t get past that, Gil and Dani spotted it first, the body just beyond the living room of Shannon in a pool of his own blood, “Shit, JT call for back-up!” 

“My Johnny is ridding the world of filth and evil!” she screamed as she began trying to fight the two detectives. The rest of it went like a horror scene, as they entered the house, checked the back and found blood on the ground where clearly someone had been cracked over the head and dragged away. 

It felt surreal as Gil stood there among coming and going uniforms, the ME and the FBI arriving. He just stood there, hopelessly staring down at the spot where his son had been hit, where he’d gone down. Where he’d been taken. 

He wanted to scream and cry and throw things, but all of that would have to come later. All of that would come after he had to do the hardest thing of his life. A single hand gently gripped his shoulder, “Gil, JT is going to go tell Derek...we need to tell Mrs. Whitly.” 

How, how was he going to tell her he’d lost her son. Their little boy, sure he wasn’t biological father, but he’d loved that boy, poured sweat, and tears and worry and money into that beautiful little boy in desperation that one day he could save the boy the way Malcolm had saved him. 

Dani didn’t speak as she saw her mentor’s face, the grayish pale tint to his face, the look of utter loss and hopelessness in those brown eyes. “Come on Gil,” she whispered. She knew he wouldn’t want anyone to witness this, knew he was a private enough man. “We’ll find him, Gil.” 

Gil and Dani were headed toward the familiar expensive house, all Gil could think was this wasn’t going to end well, for anyone. With Bright missing that meant he’d gone into a situation without seeking backup. Gil wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it, but he’d make damn sure the kid’s self-destructive habits were broken once this was over. 

JT didn’t envy Gil’s job, the position of telling Jessica Whitly anything, much less that one of her children was missing, left a feeling in JT’s belly that he wasn’t quite ready to distinguish. But as he walked slowly towards the familiar firehouse, he realized this didn’t feel any better. His gut churned, his palms were sweaty and all he could do was ask questions he didn’t want to know the answer to yet. Where was Bright, was he okay, would he be okay? Unfortunately, JT had been around the block enough times, both in the Army and as a cop to know these sort of situations rarely ended well for anyone. Least of all the victim. 

His eyes landed on the familiar figure of the man he considered his brother. He was currently playing a video game on the second floor of the firehouse, JT could make out his voice and shouting easier than he could his actual figure. The man’s bright laughter froze the detective for a moment, he loved Derek, sure he wasn’t likely to ever admit it verbally, but he’d watched Derek grow from a scrawny and narrow teen with a chip the size of Texas on his shoulder, to a man who had strong relationships and was capable of seeing himself for more than just his past. 

“Detective Tarmel, to what do we owe the pleasure?” A deep voice caused him to turn to his left and he saw Captain Steve Sloane standing there in his NYFD shirt and dress blues pants. He had a smile on his long face, but as soon as JT looked at him, the man’s blue-grey eyes began to shift. “What happened?” He asked with a heavy sigh. 

“Bright disappeared.”

It took a moment for the Captain to recognize the name before he nodded. “The kid Derek is dating.” At JT’s nod, Steve sighed and looked down at the ground, “Damn. You want to do this in my office, give him a bit more privacy?”

“That’d be great, thank you, sir.” 

Steve nodded, “I’ll go get him, feel free to take a seat in my office.” As Captain of the NYPD’s 118th he was responsible for the lives of his crew, but more than that, he felt responsible as their friend and father figure to ensure they were cared for. Derek was a particularly different fireman on his team, Derek had only been here for eight months, he was young, full of talent and potential but he was also damaged. He didn’t show it out on the field of course, but it was there, simmering just under the surface as if he was always waiting for something or someone to stab him in the back.   
Steve had worked hard to be a father figure to all his crew members, but with Derek, he’d taken it a little more seriously. He and his wife Amanda regularly had the young man over for dinners, he babysat Steve’s children from time to time. Derek ensured the young man was always cared for and that he damn well knew it. 

Stepping into the upstairs section of the firehouse he sighed, “Wolf,” he called his surrogate son’s nickname, they’d named him sour wolf shortly after he’d arrived because he always looked like he was sucking on something sour and because his dog looked more like a wolf at times than dog. “Follow me, son.” 

Gil stepped into the house, having pushed his way through the clamoring press, an unsettled feeling had wedged its way deep into his stomach. He’d promised he’d take care of Malcolm, yet here he was now to tell Jessica he’d lost him. 

“Gil, Merry Christmas,” her eyes searched their non-existent group, instantly honing in on who was missing, rather than who was present. “Where’s Malcolm?” She asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Jessica, we were working a case, one we believe was connected to the Junkyard Killer, though we didn’t realize that at the time. He was running down a lead and...we lost contact with him.” 

The remarkably strong woman nodded, hands to her sides, “Right, where is he now?” she asked again, though, from the slight shake in her voice, Gil could tell it was a lie. 

“We don’t...know,” Gil admitted, hating himself for the words. Silently swearing he’d put a tracker in the damn kid if he got him….when he got him back. 

“You don’t know?” Ainsley spoke up this time, her brows furrowed, fear etching itself in the nearly nonexistent wrinkles on her forehead. 

“I’m sorry Jessica, we’re doing everything we can to find him.” He could see the tears in her eyes she’d do anything to ensure didn’t fall. The woman was all emotions and fears wrapped up tightly in control. 

Derek had come downstairs with his boss and smiled at the sight of his best friend, “Hey, what’s up?” Derek asked as he took a seat in one of the Captain’s three chairs. 

JT took a slow breath, reminding himself that Bright wasn’t dead. But somehow, that didn’t make this feel any easier. “Bright was working on a case and...we seem to have misplaced him?” 

Derek chuckled, brows furrowing, “What?” 

“He called Gil to say he was running down a lead, sounded like he was with someone, we think a former detective, Shannon. We haven’t heard from him since.” 

“Okay, but he could be fine, we’re just being cautious, right?”

JT sighed before he wiped his hands on his jeans and took a seat across from his friend, “Yeah, possibly, but he’s....he’s not answering his phone and the killer we’re after has a rather personal connection to Bright.” 

“What sort of connection?” 

JT let his eyes drop down to Bones who was calmly seated by his human’s legs. He prayed the dog would make this easier, but he doubted it, considering he didn’t even like Bright that much and this made him feel horrible. “Apparently Bright’s father knew our killer, they were friends and unfortunately apparently the killer knows Bright.” 

Instantly, Derek felt as if someone had pulled a rug out from under his feet and he was swirling through a dark abyss, he tried to remind himself that this was neither the time nor the place to have a panic attack. They’d only known one another for a month, he tried to rationalize, except it felt like he’d known Malcolm. A cold wet nose snapped him from his mounting inner turmoil and he looked down to see sad eyes staring up at him, “I want to help find him,” Derek stated, his jaw set in a way that JT knew meant trouble. 

“Man I don’t even know if they’re going to let Gil help, I’ll keep you updated, bro. I promise, but...for your own sake and for Malcolm’s, just stay here. Cause I got a bad feeling that when we do find him, he’s going to need all hands on deck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now most of the Discord group mentioned earlier knows about this, but I've been VERY slow in publically stating it because I don't want to jinx my self. But with the first chapter written I think I'm ready to say it. This will be part one of a series called A Profiler and A Firefighter. So you may look forward to more Malcolm/Derek,


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm wakes up in a strange place and his torture begins. Gil helps Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay of this chapter, after a lot of time and consideration and rewriting this ending several times I decided I wanted to wait until tonight's episode to see if there was anything I could and would add. Boy am I glad I did, what an incredible episode. This won't give anything away and it does diverge slightly obviously from the show. But enjoy. Also please note this chapter does dip into non-con.

John sat in the chair and stared at the unconscious figure on the ground, he was abuzz with excitement just to have the boy here. He could remember the child at ten, sneaking into his room late at night and just sitting and watching him sleep. Such a beautiful little boy, so perfect in every way. But God had told him to wait, told him to leave children unspoiled. Now, well grown up Malcolm was lying on the floor, chained to the cold concrete like the little animal he was and John was free to do with him what he wanted. Memories of the things he’d wanted to do jolted through the man’s body as he was flooded with desire. No, he could wait a little longer, it was only penitence if Malcolm was awake to recognize his sins. 

So John waited, after all, he’d waited twenty years, twenty long years of watching, stalking and waiting. What was a few more minutes, a predatory smile slid across his weathered features as he saw the first twitches of consciousness returning to his newest sinner. 

Malcolm didn’t know how long he was out when he finally woke, his head pounded like an entire symphony of percussionists, his body ached all over, his eyes even hurt, but his head was by far the worst. As he tried to pull himself from his muddled thoughts he forced himself to open his blue eyes. 

He frowned as he tried to remember the last thing that had happened, flashes playing out in his eyes like a bad film reel. Shannon, something had happened to Detective Shannon...wait no, he wasn’t a detective anymore. The familiar sensation of something around his wrist was par for the course. Initially, until he realized they weren’t his usual cushioned restraints. They pulled at the hair on the edges of his arm and seemed to dig in a little too tight. Looking to his side he felt his stomach roll at the sight of an old rusty chain, not unlike the one that kept his father from lashing out, immobilizing his arms. He couldn’t get his hands more than shoulder-width apart, and that was if he kept them flat on the floor, where they ran through a single, very sold looking anchor on the concrete floor. 

Malcolm’s neurons began to kick into overdrive, he felt his breath hitch and he had to force his eyes closed to remind himself that panicking wouldn’t do him any good right now. 

This was John’s favorite part, he thought as he watched his newest sinner begin to regain consciousness and taken stock of his situation. This was when they realized they couldn’t run anymore, that their past had finally caught up to them. In Malcolm’s case, it was a very, very sinful past. John could feel his body stirring in excitement, but once more he focused on the figure on the floor. 

Letting a breath out slowly between his lips, Malcolm turned his mind back to his body. He was aching, but not like he’d been hit or injured...well aside from his head. More like he’d been carelessly bounced around in a giant washing machine. A chill coursed through his body as he recognized the walls. He didn’t know the location, but this had to be where his father and Watkins had brought him when he’d been ten...righ? Pulling his arms in close to him, he closed his eyes.

Clenching his jaw tight and taking another shaky breath in through his nostrils, Malcolm realized the earlier chill hadn’t been from fear alone. He wasn’t wearing shoes, or his wool coat, in fact, he wasn’t even wearing his suit jacket. He’d been stripped down to his suit pants and his button-down shirt. Bothy fairly light fabrics that weren’t naturally designed to provide warmth to an unheated cabin in the latter part of December. “Call. For. Backup, this isn’t rhetorical, Bright. I actually want to hear you say it out loud,” the familiar fatherly chastisement echoed in Malcolm’s sore skull and for a moment he felt a burning sensation in his eyes from tears. He’d once again jumped into something without looking. And this time, he might actually die because of it. 

Then again, if Watkins didn’t kill him, it was very likely that Gil would, so either way, Malcolm doubted he’d be making it out of this entirely unscathed. Years of being an FBI agent and cop, as well as training kicked in as Malcolm’s heart rate returned to normal as he looked around the small room he was in. His eyes instantly landed on John who was staring at him like a piece of meat...or perhaps something altogether different and more horrifying. Malcolm swallowed past the sudden desert in his throat and continued to try and feign normalcy by glancing around the rest of the room. Malcolm could vaguely recall the actual cabin which had been nice enough, but he didn’t exactly remember this room. He did remember that the cabin had a cellar or at least a door he’d assumed lead down to a basement, whether he’d spent any actual time down there, Malcolm couldn’t recall. Clearly, it was entirely made of concrete. So if anyone heard them, he’d have to scream really, really loud. The room radiated chill from the ground it was settled into. 

The floor around where he was chained was also concrete, leaving Malcolm with the fairly certain though that if his father had any more victims, they were likely lying under this very room. The thought of it sent a shiver up his spine, especially because when Malcolm was here last time, he remembered the floor being wood. 

Okay, don’t think about death, his brain supplied again as he felt his hand beginning to tremble, he clenched his fists together in front of his chest and tried to mentally shut off the cop side of his brain that knew he was in serious trouble. Especially if the only other person who knew their location was Martin Whitly. A surprising wave of self-recrimination and anger at his actions swept through him, distracting him momentarily from taking inventory. 

John’s continued lack of movement and just staring at him was enough to set Malcolm’s unease off again and he tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. He jumped, startled when John’s chair shifted and he moved towards Malcolm. 

Malcolm felt the overwhelming need to reassure John he’d be found, even if he didn’t quite believe it himself, “They’ll find you,” he insisted firm as John came to stand over Malcolm, straddling his hips between his feet. Malcolm realized how big John was, easily several inches taller, though not overweight, large enough that taking Malcolm had been easy for the man. He shivered in fear as John knelt down over Malcolm, one hand coming to rest on Malcolm’s hip, where his thumb began to rub in gentle circles. 

John just smiled at him, a gleam that left Malcolm’s insides curdling like old milk, “No, Little Malcolm, they won’t. No one’s here to stop me, not even your daddy,” he smiled as he ran his fingers across Malcolm’s stomach in what the profiler could only describe as a caress. 

Another shiver and Malcolm hated himself that he could feel his body reacting. He struggled to remind himself that it was perfectly normal. Bodies were physical things, they reacted to good feelings, even if they shouldn’t. A sudden smack to his face sent Malcolm’s head reeling and his brain blurring again as he looked back at John. A strong hand gripped his jaw and chin and for a second Malcolm saw a burst of stars as pain tore through his face. “Pay attention,” John growled leaning down in the man’s face. “Scream all you want, Little Malcolm, no one will hear you.” 

Malcolm couldn’t help the smirk, “You sure, I can scream pretty loud,” he taunted. 

John shoved Malcolm’s head away, causing him to crack it against the ground again, eliciting a groan from the younger man. “Piece of filth, you disgust me. Oh, I know all about your hobbies Malcolm, bondage, occasional BDSM, homosexuality. It’s time to confess your sins, Malcolm, so we can properly cleanse you,” he sneered at the man. “Your daddy was here to save you last time, but he isn’t here now, Little Malcolm. Because you forsook him, one of the original ten commandments and you just let it happen.” 

Malcolm’s brows drew together, “Your grandfather molested you, didn’t he? Just like you would’ve molested me if my father had let you,” Malcolm whispered in horror. 

John’s face grew red as he drew away from the younger man as if he’d been burnt, lashing out in anger he kicked Malcolm in the side, causing Malcolm to cry out and curl to protect it, “I wouldn’t have molested you! I’m cleansing you! What he did was a sin, what I’m doing will redeem you,” his final word a purr of delight before he stepped away from Malcolm and quickly stepped out of the room. 

Malcolm’s mind went into high gear like a whirring computer, he had to have been gone for at least a few hours, it had been about six when they’d shown up at Matilda’s house, and they’d spent nearly an hour or so there before shit went south. Unfortunately, that meant it was past midnight, if he’d driven them out here, then it was likely they were at minimum an hour outside the city, possibly more. Probably, thankfully, not outside New York or Jersey, he supposed that was a blessing of some sort. Though that still left a large expanse of space for them to search for him. 

That also explained a couple other symptoms he was experiencing, the odd occasional zingers he’d get through his body, the sensation of the room tilting at odd angles, sure it could be a concussion, but he knew the feeling as if something was being pulled out of his body. Withdrawal symptoms. He’d taken his medications at seven this morning, which meant he was past, well past, the twelve-hour point and their lifespan. Most antipsychotics and antidepressants, on average, lasted twelve to twenty-four hours, with withdrawal symptoms potentially kicking in-between hour thirteen and eighteen. Things were going to start getting ugly if he remained without his medications for longer than twenty-four hours. He wouldn’t really start feeling wretched until around the twenty-four-hour mark, after that the medications’ effectiveness would wear off. He’d begin hallucinating, possibly more. His emotions were about to become his second-worst enemy, compared only to John Watkins. 

His heartbeat kicked up a notch, thrumming harshly against his ribs in a tympany of panic as he realized things were going to get ugly very quickly. How were Gil and his team supposed to find him when they didn’t have any more clues than Malcolm had had this morning. Before he could dwell too deeply on that, the door swung open again. John stepped back into the room, one of his hands held a black leather handle, the handle had seven pieces of leather coming out the tip, at the end of each piece of leather looked like it had pieces of metal tied onto the ends of each. Malcolm’s earlier tympany kicked up to a full-blown percussion section as he tried to shift away from John who was advancing rather quickly. 

John just smiled, “Oh little Malcolm, how foolish you must be to think you could ever get away,” John cooed as he grabbed the collar of Malcolm’s shirt and yanked him hard. “Do you know what the seven deadly sins are, Malcolm? Did your filthy mother ever teach you those, or was she too busy indulging in them herself?” 

Malcolm gulped and nodded, “Lust, envy, gluttony, sloth, greed, wrath and pride,” he managed, his eyes still watching the whip which was occasionally making small clicking noises when the tips would knock together. 

John leered at Malcolm, “Very good, you can be taught. You know Malcolm, I’ve watched you for a long time, and I’ve got to say you’re about as guilty as anyone of all those sins, aren’t you?” Malcolm didn’t reply, he set his jaw, determined to fight back with every fiber of his being. “I mean you slept around in college, and now you’re sleeping with that fireman, you’re envious of other people’s ability to form functional relationships, I know how much money you and your mother have, I’ve certainly seen you angry and oh that pride,” he chuckled, “Well safe to say your pride is big enough to cover the two you don’t seem to partake in.” 

Malcolm shivered as he was shoved down on the ground, flat on his stomach, “There’s something to be said for the act of flagellation,” John whispered as he stroked the whip reverently before looking back down at Malcolm, his eyes making Malcolm’s skin crawl. “Let me show you how it’s done, boy, you might wanna brace yourself, this is going to hurt.” 

As the first blow rained down on Malcolm’s back he tried with all his might not to scream as the metal barbs caught in his shirt and skin, tearing as they went. Malcolm wasn’t sure how long he made it, how many times he was whipped because the screaming started. Before he struggled to get away to hide from the agony and burning that was consuming him. 

o0o

Gil had spent countless hours at Jessica’s house, searching for any possible hints to where they’d find their Malcolm. The hours had ticked past midnight and well into the early dawn, one day went and after three days, Gil had to admit he was exhausted beyond reason and finally headed home. Or at least, that was where he thought he was headed. 

Instead, he found himself pulling up to the front of Malcolm’s building. His heart ached as he looked up at the familiar window that had been replaced when Malcolm had gone bursting through it one morning. Stepping out he pulled out his key, expecting it to be locked, only to find it open. 

His mind confused, he pushed the door open, hand on his gun ready, but as he came up the stairs what he found instead made his chest physically hurt, Derek lay in the middle of Malcolm’s bed, staring at nothing. 

“Have you eaten?” Gil asked, fatherly instincts kicking in at the sight of the younger man.

Derek’s eyes shifted from staring the thousand-yard stare to Gil’s face. His features were stony as if he were desperately trying not to feel anything, but Gil could see it in the man’s eyes, the desperation to hear good news. To hold the man he loved again. “No,” Derek whispered softly. 

Gil moved over to the bed, Bones and Athena were curled up against Derek’s back, even sunshine seemed to have lost what made her sunny. “Right, get up, bring the bird and the dogs,” Gil ordered. 

Derek’s brows furrowed, but he slowly did as he was told, and soon they were in Gil’s car. Derek hadn’t ever really been in Gil’s car, and he wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, but he knew he could trust the older detective. Fifteen minutes later they pulled to a stop and Gil shut the car off. He got out, pulling Sunshine’s cage from the back of the car as well as Athena and he headed up the stairs to the small house. 

Derek and Bones followed closely behind as Gil let himself in, and almost instantly Derek figured out where he was. It wasn’t like Malcolm’s place, or even Malcolm’s childhood home, it was filled with warmth and love. Derek’s eyes landed on a picture on the mantle he assumed it was a young Malcolm, maybe ten or eleven, he had a huge smile on his face as he sat on Gil’s lap, while Jackie leaned into the picture. They looked like they were at the beach. 

“He was eleven, summer vacation, Jessica agreed to let us have him the whole summer. We took off for two weeks and did a road trip across the country,” Gil explained moving up from behind Derek. He’d set the cage down on a table and Athena was now sniffing her way in unfamiliar territory, as was Bones. 

“This is Jackie?” Derek asked, pointing to the woman. Gil nodded with a sad smile, “Malcolm adored her, I can tell. He doesn’t talk about her often, but when he does...it’s in his voice,” Derek explained. 

“She adored him too, from the day they met they were practically inseparable. Jackie had a way with people,” Gil explained. “The bathroom is upstairs to the left, next to Mal---the guest room. Go wash up and I’ll get some food started.” 

Derek’s brows pulled together in confusion, “Why are you doing this? You barely know me.” 

Gil looked at the younger man and offered another sad smile, “Because if you’re going to be my son-in-law one day it’s best to keep you alive until that happens. Besides, anyone who loves Malcolm enough to sit in his empty bed has earned the right to see his real home.” 

Derek nodded, “Thanks,” he murmured before turning and heading upstairs. 

Gil sighed as Derek made his way up the creaky stairs and he looked back over at the picture, reaching out he gently caressed Jackie’s face, then Malcolm’s. “I’ll bring him home, Jacks. I promise,” he murmured. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm's first hours of capture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the warnings, this scene contains a graphic non-con scene as well as violence and torture. If you can't handle that please don't read it. There are pieces and lines from the actual episode in this so I don't own those lines.

Chapter Thirteen

Sleeping had been painful, mostly it had been a lack of sleeping, Derek had tossed and turned most of the night and had heard Gil get up at one point. The two had come together in the kitchen around three in the morning and silently sipped coffee, neither quite brave enough to talk about what scared them most, kept them alive. 

Derek, desperate to be useful to someone, headed over to Jessica’s place, she was a wreck, not to mention trying to find her husband’s final victim. Gil arrived at the bullpen, trying to wrap his head around the next few hours, praying that it would bring home his son. 

“Everybody listen up. It's been 12 hours since Detective Owen Shannon was murdered and NYPD consultant Malcolm Bright was kidnapped. Our prime suspect is one John Watkins, aka Paul Lazar, known to the public as The Junkyard Killer. Now, we know that Watkins' MO was to keep his victims alive for a time, but he also just changed all that with his last three murders, so assume nothing. Time is of the essence,” Swanson instructed the bullpen as he stepped out of his office, coffee in hand, it did little to keep him away. Fear of the worst left him plenty alert. 

Swanson stepped over to JT and Dani, “Powell, I need you and your partner--”

“It’s Detective Tarmel,” JT replied, he was really starting to hate this woman. 

She ignored his response, ”I want you going through evidence photos, logging, flagging anything - that requires follow-up.”

He interrupted again, “-Unis can handle that. Bright's our guy. We can't just sit around--”

Again she interrupted him, “In the FBI, processing evidence isn't rookie work, Officer Tarmel.” 

Jaw clenched he stepped forward half an inch, “My rank is Detective, Special Agent, and I can appreciate that you clearly have some issues with guys, but that guy you’re talking about right now has saved my ass and nearly everyone here. So you’ll give him and me the respect we deserve,” he hissed. 

Dani, deciding to cut in before the two came to blows, “We're on it. However, we can help.”

JT glared at her as Swanson walked away, “I hate her,” he grumbled. 

“Me too, but Bright is what’s important.” 

JT nodded, because as much as he did hate Swanson, she was right, they needed to bring their boy home.” 

“Where's my soda pop? We have a few questions first. I can have one soda a day.

“And you will get it. But we need your help,” Swanson replied calmly, staring at the freaky woman before her. “Where would John take Malcolm Bright besides the junkyard?”

Gil felt disgust as the woman started to mumble a church hymn, he wanted to rip out her vocal cords, wanted to destroy her. He’d never wanted to physically hurt a woman before, but this woman was managing it. “I remember that one. From church. Ms. Watkins this is your last chance. Where is your grandson?”

She continued to hum, twisting the verses to talk about Malcolm’s death, it left a cold feeling in Gil, he wanted nothing more than to throw her against the wall. 

“Get her out of here!” Snapped Swanson, having had enough of the wretched woman’s insane mutters. “I'm sorry, Arroyo. She was never gonna give us anything useful,” she offered as they stood, watching her be taken from the interrogation room. 

“I may know someone who could. But I'm gonna need a favor from you,” He hated asking it, but he was willing to take that risk.

o0o

_“Malcolm my boy,” the familiar voice echoed in his head and he snapped around to see his father standing there, in the flesh, so to speak, though the maggots that seemed to be seeking their way out his hair were new. “Come here, it’s time,” Martin said with fervor as he stepped over to Malcolm and helped him stand with a hand under his arm._

_“D-dad, time for what?”_

_Martin chuckled as he turned Malcolm around roughly to bring him face to face with a woman lying on the floor. Before this point Malcolm had assumed the Girl in the Box lay before him, she wasn’t conscious, thankfully._

_“Dad...what...I thought she wasn’t real?”_

_Martin chuckled softly as he knelt beside his son and pulled the boy’s knife from his pocket, pulling the blade out, “Your first kill, son. It’s the most important part of every young killer’s life.”_

_“NO!” Malcolm said as he tried to drop the knife and back away, but then suddenly instead of backing away, he found the blade impaled in the young woman’s side. “NO!” he cried._

_“My father showed me, and now I’m showing my boy,” Martin said proudly beaming down at his son. “Kill her son. You and I are just alike.”_

_Malcolm looked back down at the woman on the floor, only this time it was Dani lying there, “NO! he screamed again trying to getaway. Dani shot up and grabbed the knife from her abdomen, promptly shoving it into Malcolm’s. “You killed her Malcolm, you did this. That’s why she’s after you.”_

Malcolm tried to scream, but his voice was hoarse from screaming after the whipping. He lay on his side, his back throbbing with every beat of his heart. His shirt was damp from sweat and blood, leaving Malcolm to shiver in the otherwise empty room. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious for long enough that his shirt was sticking to his wounds. Every move he made seemed more painful. He was tired and thirsty, his mouth felt so dry. His head was swimming. 

The door opened and Malcolm shuddered at the sight of John stepping back into the room. In his hands a bright light, and a heavy canvass bag, which left a boulder sitting the base of Malcolm’s stomach. John just smiled at him as he set up the camera. “You’ve been unconscious for a while, I thought I’d killed you at first, lucky for me you’re a hard person to kill,” John beamed. It was like an entirely different person, this wasn’t the same dangerous man who’d whipped him, this man seemed happier and excited and somehow that was more terrifying than the other man from earlier. 

“I watched your father try and get you to kill the girl, you wouldn’t do it of course,” John reasoned, “But then I don’t think you had the right motivation,” he smiled. “We’ll see if that changes.” Walking back around the bag, John stared down at Malcolm who was glancing up at him. “You see Malcolm, I always knew you were going to disappoint your father. You’re soft, far softer than him.” John knelt down, once again straddling Malcolm and rolled him over so he was on his stomach. Malcolm guessed he should be grateful to not be on his back. Or at least that’s what he thought until he felt John start to cover Malcolm’s body with his own. “Can you feel it? Can you feel it in the air?” The man practically purred above him. 

Malcolm tried to stay calm, staring at the ground below him, trying to focus on the words and not the situation “Am I your next mission? Are you gonna starve me? Like the others? Force me to atone for my sins again?” 

“Oh no, I'm finished with that work, now we’re just going to play a bit, then we’ll get to the real reason you’re here,” John replied as he leaned in close, his breath rancid, making Malcolm’s stomach churn. 

Once more the profiler forced himself to maintain calm, maybe if he could goad the man he could avoid what was so clearly pressing against his thigh. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to get raped either, “Oh, so you're evolving. Right in this moment. Even if that doesn't bode well for me, that really is fascinating. You killed Shannon with a knife. You took his life with your own hands. That's not your normal method. For serial killer to change their technique is rare, it's-it's impressive.”

“I don't care what you think.”

Malcolm only barely retained an amused snicker, “Of course you do. Otherwise, I wouldn't still be alive, would I? There's a reason you took me. You're-you're looking for a connection. Just like you had with my father. 'Cause Well, you needed him, didn't you? As a-as a role model. A mentor to show you the way.

John smirked, “I liked working with him. And I'm gonna like working with you, too,” you’re so much prettier than he was.” 

Malcolm forced a casual chuckle, “Well, I'm flattered, but, uh, as many people will tell you, I-I kind of like to work alone. Plus I'm not a killer.”  
“Not yet. You just haven't gone through the trials, like I did. I emerged a new man after my trials. And so will you. Mm, if you survive…” John sighed in pleasure and Malcolm felt his face growing red with shame as he felt the familiar press of John’s excitement against his butt and thighs. Malcolm closed his eyes, willing the vomit threatening to come up to stop, he could handle anything, abuse, torture, anything but this. Not this. 

But if anyone was listening, they didn’t hear him because soon Malcolm felt John’s wandering hands on his hips, over his ribs and down around his waistline, “Tell me, Malcolm, do you think your father lusted after you? He certainly has an unhealthy obsession with you,” John whispered as he undid Malcolm’s pants from the front. 

Malcolm closed his eyes tighter at the unfamiliar cold and callused hand cupped him, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin. “Tell me, does your firefighter touch you like this,” John squeezed and Malcolm let out a whimper as pain exploded low in his stomach. “You’re so beautiful,” John whispered. “My little Malcolm, daddy isn’t here to stop me this time,” he murmured. 

Malcolm tried to remember to breath as the hand that had gripped him made its way towards his hole, he tried desperately to remember that clenching caused more pain, that he needed to relax if only a little to ensure he wasn’t damaged. Still, the breach of the finger was painful, unlubed it seemed to tear Malcolm in two as it was shoved into him, the dirty nails scratching along the way. Malcolm let out a sob as he felt John thrusting forward a little with his cock, which was straining against his pants. 

“Mmm, you are so beautiful, and now I’m going to finish what I started all those years ago,” John whispered as he forced a second finger into Malcolm and began pumping. 

“No, stop please,” Malcolm cried as he tried to pull away. It was like sandpaper was being shoved up him, tearing him in half. John’s other hand wrapped around Malcolm’s thin waist and gripped his cock, tight in a vice-like grip. 

“Ooh, what’s wrong, now all of a sudden you don’t want to sin anymore?” John questioned as he squeezed Malcolm tight again. Clenching from the pain in his penis caused more pain in his back and Malcolm let out a pain-filled sob. 

“I’ve watched you for a long time, Little Malcolm, and believe me, I’ve wanted to wash your sins away since the moment I met you,” he preened. “Think we should send a video to daddy? Or maybe Gil? Think they’d still love you after this? Filthy little whore,” John chuckled when he felt Malcolm growing hard as John rubbed against his prostate. 

Malcolm pressed his head to the ground trying to remind himself the reaction was a physical one, but still, he felt shame radiate through him as he felt himself growing rock hard. “Stop, please,” Malcolm sobbed. 

Malcolm felt his pants and boxers pushed down and he knew what was coming next as he heard, rather than felt, John release his own cock. It was thick, Malcolm could tell as soon as it was pressed against his backside. He tried to scramble away, fingers biting into the concrete and breaking his nails, scratching the tips of them. As John pulled him back with both his hands and held his hips painfully tight. “Oh no my boy,” he purred, “I’ve wanted this for a very long time.” 

Malcolm managed to scream louder than he thought possible as John pushed into him, with little more than spit and blood, it felt like Malcolm was being torn in half, he tried desperately to fight and get away but John held him steady and as they were flush against one another, Malcolm felt the man’s rough shirt rubbing against Malcolm’s wounds. 

“So tight for such a whore,” he preened. Malcolm had a high pain tolerance, but this felt horrible, he could feel tears, he could tell there was bleeding already occurring and John didn’t care, he just kept going, as if that only spurred him on further. 

Eventually, the pain became so overwhelming that Malcolm mentally checked out, his mind reeling with how he’d never feel clean again, how he’d never get rid of John. 

“Confess your sins, Little Malcolm and maybe I’ll let you experience pleasure,” John groaned. When Malcolm didn’t reply John lashed out with his hand, knocking Malcolm’s chin against the cold ground. John leaned his whole body down, crushing himself against Malcolm, forcing the air out of the smaller man’s lungs, “Confess your sins,” John hissed, one hand threading through Malcolm’s hair and yanking it hard. 

“I betrayed my f...father,” Malcolm choked, the pressure on his lungs immense and the pain in his back and anus even worse. “I...I ruined my family, destroyed them…” Malcolm cried out when he felt John jerk suddenly and a moment later he felt his face grow red as he felt John come inside him. 

Malcolm clenched his eyes, tears dripping down the corners. “Please stop,” he pleaded as he felt John’s entire body crush down on him. His lungs unable to expand, Malcolm welcomed the darkness that was on the edge. 

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil goes to talk to Martin Whitly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a later update, wifey had to have her gallbladder removed on Saturday, and between that and studying for my 66 I'm a bit slammed. This chapter does contain some aspects of the episode, I don't own those lines. I took an entirely different route with Swanson in this, I don't trust her. Enjoy.

Chapter Fourteen  
  
Twenty years after Martin’s arrest, nineteen since the guilty plea that landed Martin Whitly in the cushy asylum rather than the bare cell he deserved, Gil now stood just outside the door to Martin’s solitary cell. He couldn’t deny feeling the roll of uneasiness coursing through him: sweaty palms, jittery hands, a racing heart rate. For the first time in years, Gil was about to come face to face with a man who had murdered twenty-four people and didn’t hesitate at the idea of making Gil number twenty-five. Taking a deep, calming breath, Gil lifted his chin and stood a little straighter, before nodding to the guard. 

If Martin was surprised to see the detective, he didn’t show it as Gil stepped into the cell, the door shutting with a chilling clang behind him. Martin stood on the other side of the wall, chained at his feet, around his waist and coming to his legs, like normal prisoners during conversation or transport. Instead, Martin let a predatory gleam cross his face, crinkling the edges of his eyes, “Detective Arroyo, to what do I owe this visit?” He questioned, his tone laced with disinterested boredom. “I still owe you that cup of tea, don't I?” 

“I switched to coffee. You need a chair? You don't look so good,” Gil pointed out, noting the man’s gray pallor, the sweat on his brow.

“Oh, are we saying all our inside thoughts now, Gil? 'Cause there's a few I could say,” Martin sneered all the while a smile still on his face.

“I'm here to talk about John Watkins,” Gil replied, not giving the man an inch.

Martin smiled at the idea of his boy’s success, “So, Malcolm figured out his name. That didn't take too long. What was the final piece that put it all together? Where is Malcolm?”

“I said I'm here to talk about Watkins. If you want to stay out of that hole they pulled you from, I can't be the only one talking,” Gil replied once more. 

“Fine, fine. So, how many lives has he taken?” 

“We've confirmed 19. Not as many as you.”

“19's nothing to be sneezed at. It's what they call a serial killer's dozen. Oh, God Uh, have they, um have they named him yet?”

“The Junkyard Killer.” 

“The Junkyard Killer? Yikes,” Martin frowned, poor John had gotten the short end of the stick. 

“When I said you needed to talk, this is not what I meant.”

“Forgive me. You probably need help with a profile. Well, uh The junkyard was a mislead, of course. John hated getting his hands dirty. I mean, for a man who once took his pleasure with human cadavers, he was fastidious.”

Gil’s heart stuttered for a moment, did Martin just imply John was a necrophiliac? “I don't need a profile, I need location specifics,” Gil clarified trying not to think about his kid with a predator. 

“Of course, profiling is more Malcolm's thing. Isn't it? Is Malcolm listening to this conversation? You-you wired up?” He looked up and started speaking louder, “Hello! My boy!”

“Where did you go with Watkins? We need to find his killing grounds.”

“I understand, we've been, uh, you know, through some stuff, but I-I I can still help you. And your sister. I mean, your mom's probably a harder sell. Where is my boy?”

“I need to know wherever you took Malcolm during your camping trip.” Gil snapped, tired of trying to maintain his own disconnected tone. He had to continually remind himself he wouldn’t have to see Malcolm locked up like this one day. 

Martin scoffed, raising his hands as high as he could, just barely above his navel, “I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” 

“You do, you told Malcolm--”

“Where is my boy?” the inflection on the word my didn’t go unnoticed by the seasoned detective, but he kept his mouth closed, tight, tight enough that his jaw was aching and his fist burning from where the nails were biting into his flesh. 

Gil let his own feral smile flash across his features as he took a cautious step closer to the man, “I was hoping you could tell me since you’re working with his kidnapper.” 

It took a moment for Martin to register Gil’s response, his eyes growing wide, “Kidnapper?” The fear was suddenly tangible as he glanced over to his bunk and back to Gil. “What...no.”

“Tell me the truth Martin, did you always intend for your son to die a long gruesome death at someone else’s hand?” Even as Gil asked the question he hated himself for playing the detached cop, he wasn’t, he wanted nothing more than to find Malcolm. 

Martin’s brows drew together in disgust, “What! No, He--John, oh god if Malcolm has been taken by John, he’s already dead.” Martin replied. 

Gil went cold, “Probably because you hung around killers and wanted to make him the next Jeffrey Dahmer,” snapped Gil, before taking another step closer. “But instead our boy has been served up to a guy with a Messiah complex and eyes for Malcolm. Your recruit kills those he feels sinners, your son’s words, by the way. Tell me, Martin, who’s more of a sinner than a spoiled rich boy, who forsook his father and sleeps with men?” The words fell from Gil’s lips like rotten meat, leaving behind a sour taste in his throat and mouth. Gil hated the idea that someone could see his kid like that, but if it meant getting Martin to respond, Gil was willing to go there. Martin had said John, while a common name, knowing that John Watkins was their prime suspect, thanks to a text Malcolm had shot off before his disappearance made Gil feel slightly better. 

“He's dead,” Something else flashed in Martin’s eyes, that left Gil with a heavyweight in his chest. “Malcolm’s gay?” Martin seemed caught on that, “He-he never told me,” the narcissist seemed genuinely hurt. Martin replied shaking his head, he had started to shake and was breathing heavily, “No, you don’t understand...John…” Martin staggered over to the bed and sank down, “Oh god, what have I done,” he choked. 

“Focus, Dr. Whitly, we’re running out of time.”

“It’s over, my son is dead!” sobbed Martin. 

“He can’t be!” growled Gil. 

“John Watkins only ever wanted two things from my boy, to rape him and to kill him. I assure you, detective, in twelve hours, he’s likely accomplished both!” 

Gil was sure his heart came to a complete stop, color draining from his face, “...he...you let a pedophile around your children?” he asked in near rage. 

“I...I didn’t know...he tried to…” Martin covered his face with his hands, “The camping trip we went on...I found out what John intended to do before...before I could get to the real reason for our trip. Malcolm tried to defend himself,” he explained, “He stabbed John and when I found out, and we left.” 

Gil wondered if a killer could redeem himself by not letting his son be sexually molested at ten. The idea made him feel sick. Taking a deep breath through his nose, and letting it out through his teeth he tried to remind himself to remain positive. His kid couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t be, “Malcolm is resourceful, Martin. Focus, is there any chance Watkins could’ve taken him to the cabin?” 

Martin closed his eyes, ”I suppose it is possible Um there was a rather deep cellar at that property...here,” he shifted, pulling up the mattress, “My journal. There’s a map in it,” he finally managed as he tried to straighten his non-existent dignity as he handed the book over to Gil. 

Gil stepped backward, his eyes never leaving Martin and lifted up the mattress, as promised there sat a composition journal. Picking it up from its spine he gave it a couple shakes, the map and something else fluttering to the floor. Tossing the journal back on the bed haphazardly, he bent down and picked up the two items from the floor, his eyes still remaining on Martin. 

He handed the map to Martin and let his own eyes drift over the news article that MISSING LOCAL GIRL -- A local woman, age 25 went missing over the long holiday weekend, Amelia Maria Swanson was believed to have been last seen coming out of a clinic in the late evening before disappearing down a nearby alley. She is the mother of 9-year-old Colette Swanson, pictured below, and had also been reported missing by her parents.

Gil’s rage instantly boiled over and he had to clench his fist from tearing up the article before he shoved it into his coat pocket. Looking back up at Martin who had opened up the small map, which

Gil could now see was of the Adirondacks in North East New York. “Here,” Martin said pointing to the southwestern part of the state park, “By Raquette Lake, that’s where the cabin was. It was fairly secluded, you’ll find the cabin roughly eighteen miles northwest Northern shore of the lake.” Martin pointed to the upper part of the lake before it became narrow. 

o0o

While the medic checked on Martin who was looking more ill by the moment, Gil stepped into the hallway to see a text from JT that the Commissioner, Captain and Agent Swanson had all headed into the Captain’s office, no doubt to try and remove Gil’s team from the case. But Gil was ready, he sent a text message of the newspaper article to JT, then called Dani on her phone. “Put me on speaker,” he ordered. 

“Perfect timing, I was about to have you removed--” Swanson began to speak. 

“No you weren’t,” Gil snapped back before she could finish before JT thrust the screenshot of newspaper clipping from thirty years ago into the Commissioner’s hand. Both men scooted closer together to read the print on the phone screen, their faces grim, “I have proof, sirs, that Special Agent Colette has at the very least, been gunning for Malcolm Bright the whole time on this case due to a personal vendetta. She personally tried to extract information from one of my team and make them stop trusting Bright. Additionally, I’m willing to go as far to say she knew exactly who John Watkins was.” 

Their brows furrowed as they looked up to where Dani held her cell phone, “How on earth do you come to that conclusion?” 

“When Bright was getting close to discovering who John Watkins was the first time around, Swanson stepped in, immediately disconnecting him entirely from the case. I’ve read the reports from the disappearance of Swanson, rumors were, she was with a child when she was taken. The child was never found; meaning Watkins took her for at least a period of time. I bet if we looked in your past, Agent Swanson, we’d find you spent a few years in Watkin’s care. Sir, she is just as attached to this case as Malcolm is. I remember the name now, I knew I’d recognized it. Her mother was victim number 13.”   


Two glares were being thrown in Swanson’s direction, the Commissioner stood up a little straighter as he put the news article down, “Tell me Special Agent, did you know who our killer was the whole time?” 

Colette opened her mouth, only to close it once more, “Watkins is going to purify the world, one sinner at a time. He’s doing God’s work” she shouted, all the calm persona from earlier gone with the flick of a disturbing wrist.

JT stepped forward, grabbing her arms and slapping cuffs on her, “You have the right to remain silent, I recommend you shut the hell up,” he growled. 

“Whitly is dangerous sir.” Swanson stated firmly, “I saw what his father was capable of, you all think Watkins is the problem here. But it’s Martin Whitly’s son!” she spat. 

The Commissioner smirked and stepped closer to her, “Oh, I agree, he is dangerous. He’s unhinged, and occasionally out of control. But I have noticed one thing about Malcolm Bright, his personal interests in case have never once interfere with helping or saving someone. He goes out of his way to ensure people stay alive. I checked into the reason he was fired from the FBI, his file said he was a bully. But I read his report and where we come from, here in New York, even killers have the right to a trial, rather than a judge and jury of a trigger happy Sheriff.” 

“Sir--” 

“You’re under arrest for obstruction of justice. Get her out of my office, Tarmel. We aren’t particularly fond of people calling one of our own a killer.” 

JT pulled the woman from the office, leaving behind Powell and Captain, “Good work, Arroyo. After this case, you have my permission to hire Bright, on as a full-time consultant, on the grounds he goes through standard and regular psych evals. Now, go bring our Detective home.” 

“Yes, sir. Powell, I’ve sent JT a copy of the map of the cabin. Arrange a raid with the remaining members of FBI who are willing to help and find him.” With that, he disconnected. 

Dani moved into the hall, shaking, pacing angrily back and forth when JT stepped out from where he’d taken Swanson. “Hey,” he soothed, reaching out like he would his wife, he gripped her shaking hands and pulled her to his side in a one-armed hug. He’d never been a touchy feeling kind of guy, but even he had to admit every moment Malcolm was gone he felt more fear and fear build up in his gut. “He’s going to be fine, it’s Bright. Toughest sonofabitch I know,” JT assured her. 

And it was true, when Malcolm had first arrived on this team JT had considered the man impossibly weak and incredibly emotional. But then he kept watching the kid get knocked on his ass and stand up again. Over and over, all the while contending with a less than stellar past, a great deal of mental disorders and a former Army Sergeant determined not to befriend him. Malcolm had definitely taught JT that some battlefields were just as bloody in the mind as they were out in the real world. 

“He’s my friend,” Dani whispered. “He asked me...when he was high, that if we were friends. I told him no. But he is.”

JT gladly gave in and wrapped his other arm around the woman he’d come to view as a little sister, “I know, me too. I’m worried about him,” he admitted and he was so scared that even if they got their kid back in one piece physically, he may never recover from this nightmare. He wasn’t sure when the little pain in the ass had weaseled his way into his life, but JT had to admit he missed not having the obnoxious profiler talking in his ear. 

o0o

  
Gil closed his eyes and leaned against the wall outside Martin’s cell and he tried to remind himself Martin liked to toy with people, it was a part of his profile. The weight sitting on his chest was overwhelming, the churning in his stomach despite barely any food. He had to keep reminding himself his kid was alive.   


“Where are you kiddo,” Gil whispered, “Please be alive, please. Don’t let him be dead,” he whispered to whoever was listening. 

The door to Martin’s cell opened, “He’s ready,” David told him. Gil gave the man a solemn nod. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm hallucinates, and Gil gets serious with Martin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters after this one! Thank you so much for all the love and reviews. I anticipate the second story being up in March maybe earlier, but I have another story I want to start and I'm studying for a licensure at work.

Malcolm jerked awake, gasping for air and looking around wildly. He wasn’t alone, John sat in his chair grinning. Malcolm felt uneasiness coiling in his stomach like a snake preparing to strike. He was tired, so tired, more than he’d ever felt before, shame and disgust warring in his mind as he hated himself for even reacting to the man earlier. His back felt like it was on fire, the cuts were growing infected. John had taken enjoyment of flogging him, making Malcolm’s back felt like one giant bruise and abrasion. He couldn’t move, his arms and legs stiff. 

“Good morning Little Malcolm,” John smiled, “Mmm, I did enjoy our time together earlier. But now it’s time to get to business.” 

“You want to talk about the past? I had a good look at yours. The way your grandparents raised you. All the punishments. Fire and brimstone. The wardrobe where they kept you, I saw the scratches on the door. Nobody deserves that.”

“I-I was a difficult child,” John reasoned, saying it like a practiced motto with years of “practice” under his belt. 

“Is that why you had to kill your grandfather?”

“I saved him. And I made sure it was quick. He was working on his car.

“You kicked out the jack. He was your first. You crushed him, then started on the others.”

John chuckled, “Ah, you got me all figured out.”

“That's how I know you weren't born this way. You're a product of that home. Which means you can change. You can evolve. This is a sickness,” Malcolm assured him.

“It's my calling! I am a savior.”

“No. You torture and kill addicts and prostitutes because that's what your mother was. You loved her, and she left, and you grew up with grandparents who drilled hate into you. You think you're an original, John. But really, you're chapter one in the first profiling book they give new recruits at Quantico,” the ice in his tone was clear, he wasn’t going to let Watkins ruin him.

“At least I remember my past. What made me who I am. You don't even know who you are. You don't remember what made you. It all started right here,” John gestured toward the room.

“Then help me remember. We went on a camping trip. The girl who I found She was there, too, right?”

John had to resist rolling his eyes, “Aw, the girl. That's all you care about! Your father took care of her himself. Guess she was special. But that doesn't matter. This is about you and me. And this,” he pulled up his shirt revealing an ugly scar that was years old, decades. “Aah see! You stabbed me and left me for dead. I lived…” John moved so quickly Malcolm didn’t have any chance to respond or think, just gasp in agony as the blade bit into his lower abdomen, “Will you?” He asked as he twisted the blade, before yanking it back out. 

Malcolm was swimming in a sea of agony, between his back, his side and his head, everything hurt. He tried not to think about the pain in his backside. How could Derek love him after this? A part of Malcolm’s brain suggested imagining it was Derek, but another part of Malcolm knew that this was nothing like what Derek would ever do to him, and to put that horror into his mind would separate him from the firefighter forever. So no, Malcolm had hid that tiny part of his world, along with thoughts of Gil still loving him like a son, and locked it away deep in his mind. He opened his eyes hallucinating a card in his pain fogged mind. “I can create a place of peace and safety no matter where I am.” He murmured, then repeated it again, “I can create a place of peace and safety no matter where I am.”

"That's right,” Gabrielle’s kind voice interrupted his pain-filled mind, “Do your daily affirmations just like I taught you.

“You're not really here,” Malcolm moaned, wincing as more pain shot through his body.

She smirked, “And you're not really in a place of peace and safety. Now. Collect your thoughts. The more you breathe, the more ordered those thoughts will be. You have to stay alive, kiddo.”

Malcolm closed his eyes and forced his heart to slow down. He took a shallow breath, “I'm losing a lot of blood,” he noted.

Gabrielle nodded from her chair, “Everything you need to fix that is right here.”

Malcolm rolled onto his side, hand coming out to brace himself and push off the ground, “First priority: stop the bleeding,” he whispered. Biceps shaking from the effort, his back was on fire, sweat dripping down his face. 

“That's better. Now, I know what you're thinking,” Gabrielle began. 

Malcolm groaned, why did his hallucinations have to be as sassy as him, “Of course you do. You're a stress-induced hallucination.”

She chuckled, “Look at Mr.Know-it-all. You think Watkins is going to shed a light on the girl in the box, is that it? Solve all your problems.”

Malcolm tore a piece of fabric from his expensive shirt and pressed it into his wound letting out a small whimper of agony. He pulled his pants back up, button them, “He can tell me about her.”

“Let her go. Stop tying your traumas up into her. She's not the reason you're like this,” Gabrielle reminded him. 

A different voice whispered, and this time Derek sat on the floor before him, his beautiful green eyes filled with empathy and love, “We know why you're like this. Watkins doesn't matter,” Derek assured Malcolm. 

“Watkins can help me,” Malcolm groaned, why did it have to be Derek. “Please don’t hate me,” he sobbed. All he kept thinking was someday Derek would wake up and realize Malcolm wasn't worth it the time and effort. He was trouble and danger wrapped in a gas soaked burlap sack, just waiting to catch fire.

He could practically feel Derek reaching out to caress his face, “No baby, He can kill you, he almost has. Stop trying to profile and, for once in your life, protect yourself. You have to get out of here, for me. I’ll never hate you, but you have to focus babe. Where are you, Malcolm? Where are you right now? It all started right here.” Malcolm briefly wondered when his subconscious had started to sound kinder and encouraging. When had that voice started sounding as if he were worth loving?

“Right here. Right here,” Malcolm continued to moan. “Where it all started. The camping trip, when I stabbed him. Is that where he’s holding me? Am I his origin story?” he asked. Derek just remained silent as Malcolm continued, “But why would I try and kill him? You think I'd remember that.”

“We've been through this. You can't force the memories to come, Malcolm,” Derek told him, despite his tone sounding a bit more like Gabrielle’s, “You need to focus on your own survival. What's the point of knowing the answers if you're dead?” 

“I can't do this alone,” whispered Malcolm. 

"You aren't alone, kid. We've all been waiting for you to ask," Gil whispered from where he stood beside Derek and Gabrielle. But it was the familiar dark coffee brown eyes looking at him with a familiar smile.

"Hello, ˈbābē," her voice as soft and soothing as ever.

"ˈmämə," he whimpered, like the lost little boy from so long ago.

o0o

  
Jessica had welcomed Derek into her home, Ainsley had been showing him the house up to this point, when she stopped at Malcolm’s old room, “I’ll let you...look around, I’ll be downstairs if you need anything?” Ainsley offered, before moving away to give the firefighter his privacy. 

The fear she felt for her brother was unlike anything Ainsley had ever felt before, she could only imagine what the man who loved him felt. 

Lying down on the bed, Derek lay his head back against the pillow and let the familiar scent of citrus, roses and a hint of amber. It felt like his heart was in his throat as he turned and buried his face in Malcolm’s pillow. There, by himself in the empty room, he let the tears of fear and worry consume. He let out the cries and sobs of agony at the thought of Malcolm alone, perhaps even dead by now. He’d come here a few times over the last two weeks, trying to find solace in being as close to Malcolm as he could get. 

Every part of him ached without Malcolm at his side. Derek couldn’t ever remember feeling this way about someone before. He’d loved, perhaps a little carelessly, but Malcolm was different than every single one of those brief stints. When he was around Malcolm felt...whole.

Derek opened his eyes to find himself standing before an old worn down cabin that looked like it was one stiff breeze might send it shaking to the ground. A prickling sense of dread forced him to clench his fist a few times before he pushed the drafty door open and stepped inside. 

He hadn’t heard a ton about the Junkyard killer’s case, just enough to know he killed his victims by crushing them. He knew what that meant, chemicals released by ruptured muscles and tendons, hyperkalemia, there was a long list, not to mention the agony that must have caused before shock setting in. 

A door sat on the opposite side of the abandoned house, steel as if the room had been built for the sole purpose of entrapment. His hands shook as he reached out and yanked the metal door open with a deafening crunch. 

“No, no please,” he choked at the sight of Malcolm lying in the middle of the room, blood and bones clearly visible through his clothes, his wide blue eyes open and unseeing. “NO!” Derek screamed as he rushed toward the body, only to have the door slam behind him. 

Whirling around, Derek threw himself against the door, pounding his fists to get it open again, jiggling the handle anything. “It won’t open, it’s just us now,” a familiar female voice cooed in his ear.   
Closing his eyes he tried to focus on his breathing, “You’re not real, this is a dream.” 

“Oh, sweetie,” she giggled as she whirled him around and promptly pinned him against the door, her leg coming between his legs, “I’m real, Derek.” Her hand slid down his chest and slid up under the hem of his shirt, fingers skimming up and across his abs. “Oh my, you have grown up, haven’t you,” she grinned with glee, her dark brown eyes alight with something that made Derek’s skin crawl as he tried to push her hands away, to push her away. 

He could feel his body responding to her touch and he hated himself for it. “Derek, why don’t you tell him how old you were, your first time,” she beamed as her hand sunk lower to his belt. 

“Save me, Derek,” Derek’s eyes shot up and he saw Malcolm standing there, still covered in blood and gore, tears covering his face. 

“I’m trying,” he growled in return as he continued to try and fight off the wandering fingers rapidly making their way down his pants. 

Suddenly Malcolm was standing in his face instead of his oldest nightmare, “How can you save me when you can’t even save yourself?” A hard shove threw him down on his bed and suddenly she was on top of him again. 

“Don’t worry sunshine, you’ll enjoy it, I promise,” she purred in his ear. 

“Derek?” 

“No, stop--” 

“Darling, wake up,” he felt a shake and jolted, looking up at Jessica’s beautiful eyes. “Are you all right, we heard you,” her voice trailed off, not wanting to embarrass the young man. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek replied. “I--” 

Jessica reached out, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone and bristly beard, “You don’t need to apologize to me, Derek. He’s my baby boy. Come on, we’re going to go look through some photos, would you like to help?” 

Derek didn’t reply, instead, he just nodded and followed the woman he’d once found a little cold and controlling out of the bedroom. He was starting to see the motherly side of her, the side he guessed she rarely showed. “We will need bourbon,” Jessica mumbled as she headed into the dining area. 

o0o

“Hurts like a son of a bitch, doesn't it?” John questioned, rousing Malcolm from his feverish thoughts. 

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I know. I floated down a river like that, fixed myself up with a rusty fish hook and some line,” John explained sitting against one of the walls. 

“That's what I'm hearing. The river?” Malcolm asked. 

“Could have used a surgeon that day, but he was less than helpful.”

“Why did I do it?”

“You don't remember the fight?” John smirked, “Shame, it was impressive.” 

“You and my dad were gonna kill somebody. The girl. I tried to save her, didn't I?”

John snickered, “You got a hell of a hero complex. Stop asking about the girl.”

“Then tell me why I stabbed you.”

“It was self-defense. And the chloroform wasn't working as well as it once did. You were starting to remember things. We brought you on that camping trip to take care of you for good. Your father was going to kill you. When he decided he couldn’t do it, weak man that he was. Well...as you can imagine you weren’t happy the first time I tried to touch you like I did earlier, either. You stabbed me.” John shrugged as he stood, moving back toward his bag. 

Malcolm tried again, “I hear that voice, too. From my father. I can hear him. I can see him. But I don't have to listen to him. So don't. Don't listen to the voice.”

John just grinned in delight, “The thing is I like the voice. It's a part of me. And right now, it's telling me to hurry.”

  
o0o

They swept up and over the crest of the hill that looked down upon the cabin as they moved in, prepared to storm the cabin like ants approaching an enemy. The target had been spotted in the kitchen. “All right, move in,” Mchovsky, the lead of the SWAT ordered from where he, JT and Dani were crouched by some overgrowth.   
  
It all happened far quicker than JT had expected, the flash bomb thrown in, followed by silence before they headed into the house, the area immediately declared clear, “House is clear!” 

“I found the basement,” one SWAT guys shouted and they headed down the old rickety stairs. “Room's clear.”

“Damn it. All clear down here.”

Dani called Gil, stomach-churning her chest heaving, she felt sick, where the hell was he! “Gil? He's not here. He's not here.” Dani tried not to sob, she felt JT’s presence behind her, he felt equally as annoyed from the way he was standing. 

o0o

Gil sighed and looked back at Martin who was sitting on his bunk again, “Malcolm's a gutsy kid with one of the sharpest minds I've ever known. You might not have any faith in him, but I do,” he assured the doctor, he wouldn’t give up on his kid.

Martin, now high on benzos, just giggled, “How you yearn for it. To be his father. That's why you brought him into the NYPD, right? Cared for him? Huh?” 

“I did a hell of a lot more for him than you ever did,” Gil replied standing firmly. 

Martin smacked his lips together, “Well, you certainly got him killed.”

“And, oh, if you'd been a good boy and drank up your cup of tea that night, Malcolm would still be alive.” 

Gil ground his jaw together, “He's not dead.”

“Well, if you knew John Watkins like I do you'd think otherwise.”

“I owe Malcolm my life. I'm not giving up on him,” Gil replied taking a step forward. 

“HE’S NOT YOUR SON!” growled Martin, face red with rage. 

Gil smirked before he lunged forward, grabbing fists of Martin’s shirt and slamming him up against the opposite concrete wall, “Oh, he’s mine,” Gil assured the man. “You may share his blood, but that man is more my child than he’ll ever be yours, and that infuriates you. But, despite your seething contempt for my role and your astounding narcissism, you’re still absolutely terrified that you’ll never see your only son again. So here’s my promise. If you don’t tell me something, I will make sure you never have another visitor for as long as your shitty life goes on. Not Jessie, not Ainsley and definitely never Malcolm. I’ll make sure you don’t get any more consultant jobs, and I’ll make damn sure you never feel the light of day on your face again.” Giving Martin one more shove he released him but remained within a few inches apart. “So tell me, Martin. Where. Is. Our. Son?” His voice low and threatening, he could feel the rage simmering just below the surface, but he kept it in check with a practiced ease. 

He licked his lips and looked back at Gil, “There’s another location he could be, I think you’ll find home is where the heart is, so to speak. I thought it had been boarded up. Perhaps I was wrong. Find my son, detective, or I assure you there won’t be a place on this planet you or Watkins can hide.” The threat was clear, and for once, Gil didn’t blame the man, he felt it to, the outrageous desire to do anything and everything possible to find their boy.

Gil didn’t answer, he just banged on the door and slipped outside into the hall, the weight on his chest that had felt like it would crush him finally easing up. 

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek, Ainsley and Jessica face off against Watkins, while they realize where Malcolm has been all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, second to the last chapter. If I'm totally honest, while I loved the second half of the season's opener, I do feel a bit like they played it safe. For a TV show that hasn't been afraid to show horror and show darkness front and center, they chose a certain path that I feel was a bit week for the show. So, I went in an entirely different direction. And, additionally, while I may occasionally overlap with some parts of the series, ultimately they will exist separately of one another now.

As Malcolm watched Watkins look at his weapons, “Watkins, no! It's not a river. It's the subway!” Malcolm groaned, dawning hitting him all at once. 

“You remember it all now, don't you? My father's a lot of things, but he would never kill his own son. Oh, he had every intention to. He just lost his nerve when we got up there.”

“So you took things into your own hands.”

“Until you became your father's son. Came at me like a feral animal.”

“I am not a killer,” spat Malcolm.

“My scar says otherwise. Face it, you're just like me. You judge, you hunt.”

“I bring criminals to justice. I protect my community and my family,” corrected Malcolm his voice shaking in fury.

“Of course.” He chuckled, shaking his head, “You share your father's strengths, but you also share his weakness.

“What's that His sadistic megalomania or the dash of God Complex?” Malcolm felt a tiny sense of snark return.

john shook his head again with a sadistic smile, “Your family. Maybe we’ll start with that sister of yours, although I must say she holds a lot of promise as a sociopath. Maybe mommy then. Tell me, Malcolm, what would you do if I ripped the only parent who cared about you, from your grasp?” 

Malcolm didn’t want to even consider it, for every ounce that his mother drove him crazy, granted it was a short trip, he loved her. He loved his mother’s strength, her pride, he loved how she’d never backed down in the face of all the trauma. His mind quelled at the thought of her no longer being around. He wasn’t ready to be an orphan. Even if he did have Gil, he knew Gil couldn’t replace his mother. Just like his mother would never replace Jackie or Gil. 

o0o

Ainsley frantically searched through a box of old treasures near dad’s “office”, Derek was looking around, while Jessica watched her daughter, “It's here somewhere. I know it.

“What is it?”

“Mom, I need to tell you something,” Ainsley said, the tone in her voice catching Derek’s attention as he moved over toward them. 

“Now you're scaring me,” Jessica whispered. 

“Good. Do you remember Mr. Boots?”

“Your imaginary friend?” Jessica asked while Derek felt like he was watching a ping pong match between the two frantic women. 

“Yes. What do you remember?” Ainsley asked. 

“You invented him right before they took Martin away. The child psychologists, And believe me, we had a fleet of them, Said that it was perfectly normal for a girl your age to have an imaginary friend, especially in a time of trauma.”

Ainsley shook her head and held up a small angelic toy, “How can he be imaginary if he gave me this?”

Derek couldn’t begin to feel the unease he felt as he glanced around, noticing for the first time that the discomfort he was feeling was one he got before something bad always happened. “We need to move,” he whispered, unsure why being quiet suddenly mattered. 

Jessica shook her head, ignoring Derek’s words, “You're confused. That figurine was from your father. It's one of the last things he gave--”

“An angel? No. Dad got me books on Marie Curie. This? This was from Mr. Boots.” 

o0o

“Just like Martin, you love your family. It's your fatal flaw. Sacrifice will be your final trial. But don't worry, it won't be something you have to do, just something you have to endure.  
I'll do the doing.”

“No. Stop. You don't have to do this.”

“No, but I do. It's my calling.”

“I know that voice!” Malcolm said frantically as John picked up an ax from his bag on the floor. “The one inside your head. Uh, maybe it started with your grandfather saying you were worthless, but it-but it evolved into something more powerful, undeniable. It will never be satisfied. And neither will you!” It was a last ditch effort but he watched John turn in delight to open a door that Malcolm hadn’t realized was even a door until now. 

He noticed the hammer on the floor within his reach. His first instinct was to grab it and smash the cuffs. But could he destroy the cuffs enough to get out? Unlikely, certainly not without injuring himself. He looked down at his hand again, it was a five-inch space for his wrist and the cuff if he could make his hand two inches smaller. Malcolm raised the mallet up with his good hand as far as he could and with fear soaring through his veins he swung the mallet down as hard as he could on his thumb. 

The scream that was emitted from his mouth was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, torn from his lungs like a piece of fabric pulled from a bloodied wound, he screamed in agony before crashing against the floor, stars and darkness edging its way into his consciousness. 

o0o

“No! This photo is from John Watkins' house. The angels, they're just like mine. John Watkins was Mr. Boots!” Ainsley explained. Glancing over his shoulder, Derek saw it, the slight shift of a board on a wall in the room beside them.

“And you didn't tell me there was a strange man--” 

“Shut up!” he growled, grabbing their arms, “Get the hell out of here, now, go hide!” he ordered.

“What?” Jessica demanded. 

Derek plead, “Just trust me, go find somewhere to hide, now!” he hissed in a desperate whisper as he shoved them down the hall, “Go now!” he demanded. Then as quickly and silently as he could, he stepped into the room where someone was clearly breaking through and hid behind and under what he assumed was Dr. Whitly’s desk. Making sure to hold his breath he heard the man’s footsteps hurrying away. 

Derek waited, sitting there, ensuring the man had landed, when he heard it, “Just take a breath. Order your thoughts--” 

His heart pounding, Derek peaked out over the desk to see the man gone, before he rushed over to the room, just in time to hear Malcolm let out a practically inhuman scream as he crushed his thumb. Derek’s eyes widened at the sight of blood covering the man. 

“Malcolm!?” He gasped as the profiler forced his now broken hand through the handcuffs and grabbed a crowbar to steady himself. 

Malcolm’s eyes were bloodshot, filled with exhaustion and swollen from tears, “I don’t have time for more hallucinations,” he groaned as he tried to stagger through the door. Until his hand came in contact with Derek’s stomach and abs. “Oh god,” he whispered, looking up, his blue eyes watered as he stared up at the beautiful man before him. He bit his lip, his face crumpling. It all felt so big, so overwhelming suddenly.

Derek was afraid to touch him, was there any place on his lover who wasn’t injured, ever so carefully, he came to reset his hand against Malcolm’s stubble covered cheek, “I’m real, Mal, I’m real. Let’s go save your damn family.” 

Malcolm nodded frantically as he started to stagger forward. Derek looked at the man who was clearly on the brink of exhaustion and collapse. Reaching out, he let his hand slide down Malcolm’s face to his neck, “Fuck, I was scared to death,” he whispered. 

Malcolm gave him a small watery smile, “I’m hard to kill. When this is over, I could really use a hug.” he just wanted to feel whole again, Derek made him feel whole and healthy, not the shattered man left in his father's wake of destruction.

Derek let out a desperate, wet chuckle, “You and me both.” 

“There’s a trunk down here, grab it, bring it up to the living room,” Malcolm ordered, his searching the area frantically. 

Derek quickly found the old trunk and hefted it upstairs, placing it in the front room like Malcolm instructed. Then, Malcolm crouched behind one of his mother’s large pieces of furniture, while Derek crouched down as small as he could behind the couch and Malcolm shouted, “WATKINS!” he shouted. “Watkins! I'm gonna find you and lock you in the dark!” he called out, waiting. 

The smashing had stopped upstairs, he could hear his mother’s firm voice. Malcolm repeated his words again and waited until he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Malcolm held his hand up to Derek in the familiar ‘hold’ sign for soldiers.

Malcolm watched as his captor stepped into the room, and just as Malcolm expected, the man froze. He could see the panic attack beginning. The familiar shaking in his body, the once confident monster who’d attacked him, gone. Replaced by a child. As the man grew closer and closer to the trunk, Malcolm snuck out from his hiding spot and with one smashed the crowbar against the back of Watkins’ head. John crashed to the ground like a tree being cut down in the woods. Malcolm could barely feel his senses as he began fighting with every fiber of his being, kicking and swinging the best he could with both his hands restrained, he was only vaguely aware of Watkins throwing a punch or two.

Two powerful arms wrapped around him, one hand reaching up to grip the crowbar, “Shhh, it’s okay,” Derek whispered as Malcolm let out a gut wrenching sob, sinking to the floor, all his remaining strength visibly leaving. Derek stared in shock and horror at the vision before him but reminded himself Malcolm had been put through hell. Holding the man as gently as he dared, well aware of the frantic breathing, he pressed a kiss to Malcolm’s sweat-soaked hair. “It’s okay,” he murmured. 

“Leave ‘im in the trunk,” Malcolm mumbled as he pushed away from the ground and Derek then started to stagger upstairs again. Derek’s brows furrowed, because there was likely no need for the trunk, Watkins was on the floor. Head caved in. Derek wished he could feel fear or anger or anything other than the pleasure that the asshole was dead. Still, reaching down he pressed his fingers against the man’s throat, confirming there was no pulse. He ground his jaw together to keep from giving in to the desire to throw in a couple of his own violent swings at this man. Before he heard the small family crying upstairs. 

“Mom...Ainsley?” Malcolm called as he stumbled up the stairs. 

Derek pulled his cell out, dialing Gil, as he ascended the stairs as well, “It’s Derek...we found Malcolm…” 

“Is he okay?” Gil asked immediately, his heart in his throat. 

“No, definitely not...he just killed Watkins and seems to think we locked him in a trunk,” He explained quickly. His eyes landed on Malcolm’s back and pants, his heart aching for his beautiful man. He felt a cold and vicious rage threatening at the base of his spine. Wishing he could kill Watkins again, destroy the man for touching Malcolm, for making him feel any less. “We need medical assistance. Immediately, two, I think Ainsley was hurt too.” 

“It’s on its way, we’re two minutes out,” Gil assured him with a level of calm he didn’t particularly feel himself. 

“Malcolm! Sweetheart!” Jessica cried as her son stumbled into the doorway, he was on his last leg, his last wave of strength.   
  
“Mom,” Malcolm groaned in a mixture of pain and exhaustion all overcoming his adrenaline.  
  
“What happened? Are you okay?” She demanded as she started pulling him in for a hug but he gasped in pain. 

“Watch my hand, I'm alive,” his vision was starting to darken, he felt everything starting to grow far away. 

He heard Derek say his voice before he felt the reassuring hands under his arms before Malcolm finally sank into the darkness. There was a time he'd have stayed awake, but for the first time, maybe ever, he felt safe. Safe enough to close his eyes and let someone else help him. Derek sank to the floor, cradling Malcolm as gently as he could, mindful of his back injuries. 

“Is Gil on his way?” Jessica asked as she knelt down beside her son. Ainsley staggered out of the room and over to her little family. 

“Any minute,” Derek assured. “He’s burning up.” 

They heard the door burst open downstairs and people racing up the stairs, Gil stepped into the bedroom, “Malcolm,” he cried. 

Malcolm’s exhausted eyes fluttered open and filled with tears, “Bâbâ?” It was a word Gil hadn’t heard in over fifteen years, the Persian word for dad, Jackie had taught him the word for mother and father in her family’s first language. “Di...didya see...he wanted me to kill...Bâbâ I couldn’t--” he choked, his voice filled with exhaustion, fear and hoarse from screaming. “He hurt me Bâbâ,” he whimpered as he tried to sit up. 

Gil looked over to Derek who just nodded in understanding. Gil let out a choked sob as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to his boy’s forehead. “It’s okay, son. We’ll help you, I promise.” He swore quietly as the medics rushed inside. 

Malcolm curled up in Derek’s embrace, trying desperately to disappear as he wept, coughing ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again in Gil’s arms. 

Derek’s heart was breaking, he could feel the fever radiating off his lover, seeing all the blood covering his shirt, feeling him shiver. He closed his eyes and buried his nose in Malcolm’s sweaty hair. He’d been here all along, he’d been in the same house all along and somehow that made everything so much worse. 

“Sir, we need to get him on the stretcher,” one of the medics said as they gave Gil’s shoulder a squeeze. 

Derek knew rationally he had to let his lover go, but his heart was aching as he was still clutching the man close. “It’s okay, Derek,” Gil assured, “They’ll take care of him.” Gil had to admit he wanted to hold onto the boy forever too. 

“You can ride with us,” the medic told Derek. 

Derek shook his head, “I’m not family,” he murmured. 

Jessica smiled, “Honey, you were family long before this, but you definitely are now. You and Gil go with Malcolm, I need to go with Ainsley.” 

“Jessica, I need a word,” Gil whispered waving her closer. “He killed him.” 

Jessica closed her eyes, defeat and devastation lining her pale features, “This could destroy him.” 

“We won’t let it, but...he doesn’t think he did.” 

Jessica nodded, she straightened a little, before looking to her children...their children. “We worry about them first, then we deal with the rest.” 

Derek nodded his thanks, allowing the Medics to step in and start working on their two victims. As he stood and stepped back, he felt Gil grip his shoulders. “He’s alive, that has to be enough for now,” Gil whispered. 

“He was raped,” Derek murmured, well aware that Jessica’s eyes shot over to him in shock. 

“He was, but it doesn’t have to break him. We won’t let it, will we, son?” Gil encouraged. 

Derek practically heard the order as he straightened, standing taller, “No sir,” he replied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So two things to look forward to from me! First is a separate storyline from this called A Hand to Hold, it takes the idea of what if something more violent had happened causing Gil and Jackie to actually take custody of Malcolm. 
> 
> And of course Book II of this series: I'll Be Your Sanctuary, which will encompass three pieces as a whole: The aftermath of Malcolm's kidnapping, the newest case, which will directly impact Derek and in turn Malcolm and finally the aftermath of Derek's trauma.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end of my friends. But more is coming! It has been a pleasure writing this and I can't wait for part two.

** Chapter Seventeen **

Malcolm was lying wrapped up in blankets, with warm saline and half a dozen pain-killers being pumped into him. As far as Derek and Gil could tell, he was wide awake, but he hadn’t spoken, nor had he opened his eyes. Perhaps the most surprising thing was the hold he’d retained on Gil’s jacket. From the moment he’s been loaded onto the stretcher and into the back of the ambulance, Malcolm’s one good hand remained clenched around a fistful of Gil’s flack jacket. Gil wasn’t sure who Malcolm was grounding more with this act, himself, or Gil. But the detective didn’t much care because he felt equally unable to tear himself from Malcolm’s grip. 

SWAT and the Commissioner had both gotten all the details, done an initial investigation and agreed, they’d spoken to the FBI and cleared Malcolm of all potential charges of killing John when it was proven that Malcolm had been raped at least twice, possibly more and had been chained to the floor and with John clearly attacking and preparing to slaughter Malcolm’s family he had been within his rights of self-defense. 

The knowledge that he was innocent would likely do little to assuage the natural guilt Malcolm was bound to be feeling once he realized what he’d done. It was a guilt Gil was familiar with, and he wasn’t even sure how to combat it, but he’d make sure he found away. 

They arrived at the hospital, where they were greeted by Dr. Travis among the medical staff waiting in the emergency bay. And all too soon both Gil and Derek were left standing in the biting chill early January, Gil couldn’t help but feel lost. Gil didn’t know what to say, what could he possibly say to make this better. 

Derek, for his part, had barely said two words since they’d found Malcolm, perhaps it was because mentally he still hadn’t accepted that they  _ had  _ found him, or maybe it had more to do with the knowledge that finding him physically wasn’t the same as bringing him home mentally. Malcolm had already been in a dangerous spot before he’d been taken. It was incredibly unlikely that this situation had made any of that better. 

“What do we do now?” Derek asked before Gil could walk away from him. He’d told Gil earlier he’d be there. But having watched Malcolm disassociate in the ambulance and remain unresponsive had been unnerving. 

Gil looked over at the younger man, a couple of tears falling, “He’s alive. We keep him that way,” he whispered, before heading inside. Derek followed behind the man a few steps. 

It was nearly twelve hours later before Malcolm and Ainsley were settled into a hospital room. Ainsley was staying for the night and was resting, on painkillers. Malcolm’s hand was in a cast to help it heal, they’d had to clean and debride the wounds on his back, a plastic surgeon was due to look at those the following morning. He was on two different antibiotics, one to make sure he didn’t get tetanus from the chains that he’d been cuffed with and another set for the few wounds he had on his body that had started showing signs of infection. They had also tested for multiple sexual diseases, just in case, John was infected. And had been forced to put a couple of sutures in Malcolm’s rectum. Even though he’d arrived mildly hypothermic, they were now trying to bring his temperature back down which had spiked during the surgery. Dr. Travis had said it was likely his body reacting to the shock. 

Gil stepped into the room, Jessica at his side, “He called me Bâbâ,” Gil whispered softly as he moved over to his kid. 

Jessica glanced over at him and smiled sadly, “I haven’t heard that term in ages, he loved that he could call you and Jackie mom and dad without me ever knowing.” 

“He never wanted to hurt you,” Gil whispered. 

She moved over to her son, her hand gently caressing his bearded cheek, “My sweet Malcolm. God, I can’t believe he was there all along if I had known--” she whispered. 

“Don’t, don’t do that to yourself,” Gil interrupted her, his hand on her’s. “We couldn’t have stopped this. It happened now we deal with the fallout.” 

Jessica gave him a teary nod as she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of Malcolm’s head. “I’ll make sure we have everything set so he can recoup at wherever he wants.” 

Gil looked over at her in surprise, he’d assumed they would have a fight about it, that Malcolm would have to fight her over where he’d recover. “You’re sure.” 

Jessica let out a shaky sigh, “My son had all of his choices taken from him, all his safety, he was...I will not allow anyone, myself included, to make decisions for him anymore. If he decides he wants to recover at your place, I’ll make it happen, if he decides his own place, I’ll make it happen. Whatever he wants, he’ll get.” 

Gil reached over and gently gripped her hand, “We’ll get him through this.” 

“Yes we will,” She replied with more strength than she felt at the moment. 

Derek stood on the outside of Malcolm’s hospital room, staring in through the plated glass, as an outsider, watching as Jessica and Gil by Malcolm. “You okay?” JT’s voice startled Derek from his thoughts and he looked over his shoulder. 

JT and Dani had arrived three hours ago, Dani had gone home to get a shower and change. JT had Tally meet them at the hospital with both dogs, Bones was currently sitting at Derek’s side, occasionally letting a whine eek out from fear for his other human. Athena was snoozing in Tally’s arms in the waiting room. 

“Would you even believe me if I said yes,” Derek asked hopefully.

JT snorted, “Definitely not.” 

“How do we come back from this, J? I mean...Malcolm was already drowning, hell most days I’m drowning. How do you fix something like this, he was...brutally raped, and beaten and he killed Watkins?” The defeat and sadness was etched in Derek’s unusually handsome face. 

JT was quiet for a moment, trying to decide what to say. His mind moved back to the kid on the bed. If someone had asked him five years ago when he’d come to work under Gil if the man had a “soft” side. The answer would’ve been no, absolutely not, a protective side sure and the guy cared, no question, and he’d been different around his wife Jackie, but Gil had never shown anything beyond a usual sense of detachment. Then Malcolm had entered the picture.

It was like these last six months, JT had discovered who Gil really was, and it sure as hell wasn't detached. JT would’ve said the same about Dani, usually and himself. Yet, here they were, not quite able to make it through a day without checking up on their “little brother”. Something in Bright brought an instinct in JT that he wasn’t familiar with. 

It wasn’t like soldiers wanting to protect one another, most soldiers could defend themselves. While JT had a knew the kid could hold his own, hell the fight they’d witnessed proved that there was something altogether different and vulnerable about the kid. Looking back at his friend JT sighed, “I don’t have all the answers, Der. I do think you’re good for him, and believe it or not, I think he’s good for you too.” 

Derek turned to face JT, skepticism lining his face. JT was still staring at the figure in the hospital bed, “Really? 

JT finally turned towards Derek, studying the beard that had grown on his face over the last few days, looking at the slightly sunken in cheeks, the pale features and exhaustion that underlined his eyes like vacation baggage. “Look, before I met Tally, I used to believe you had to be whole and functional, to have a happy and healthy relationship. What I’ve discovered is that none of us is ever completely whole or functional. So maybe you’re both a little broken and at a low spot right now. I don’t think you can do more damage to one another, instead, I think it’s likely you’ll lift one another up. And if that ain’t the sappiest shit I’ve ever spouted, well put me out of my misery cause I’m goin’ soft.” 

Derek chuckled, “He’s a good guy.” 

JT smirked ever so slightly, “Yeah, he is. It just took me a while to see it. But, if he hurts you, there will be no place for him to hide,” JT gave Derek’s shoulder a squeeze before he turned and walked away from the hospital room.

Derek sighed before he gripped the doorknob and stepped into the hospital room. Gil and Jessica looked up at him and each gave him a knowing but tight smile before they stood and stepped out. Vacant blue eyes watched as Derek moved closer to the bed. Derek studied the man for a long minute, he had a small bandage on his forehead, and though it couldn’t be seen, there was one on his shoulder and a larger one on his side. “Hey,” Derek whispered as he moved over to the chair and sank into it like his body weighed a ton. Reaching out he placed went to place his hand atop Malcolm’s good hand, then stopped short, trying to decide if it was a good decision. Finally, erring on the side of hopefulness, he let his hand fall over the unharmed forearm. Derek tried not to notice the small flinch he felt at his initial touch.

Malcolm didn’t reply at first, just stared at Derek with his tired eyes, gaunt face and a look of disinterest. “Why are you here?” he finally croaked, his voice still hoarse from his screaming the day before. 

Derek felt his stomach roll at the question, “Because I care about you,” Derek managed to strangle a reply out through his frozen vocal cords. 

Malcolm continued to just stare at him, that numb vacant expression, “I don’t deserve it.” He whispered in reply before turning his head away from Derek. Malcolm hadn’t cried, refused to feel it at all, but deep in his chest was an agonizing throb trying to burst against his ribs, begging him to feel, pleading him to let it out. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in Derek’s arms, hell even Gil or his mother’s arms and disappear for a very long time.

Derek opened his mouth to reply, a tear trailing it’s way from his eye down his cheek and into his beard as he closed his mouth again and struggled to form a reply. Looking down at the floor, he watched another tear hit the linoleum before he wiped at his cheeks with his hands. “I can wait,” he whispered. He desperately wanted to brush the hair from Malcolm’s face, but he resisted, not wanting to startle the man. 

Malcolm turned and faced Derek, the ache in his chest seemed to grow stronger by the second, “I can’t ask you to wait.” 

“You aren’t, I can wait. However long you need, I can wait. Can I kiss your forehead?” Derek asked. 

Malcolm nodded, closing his eyes when he felt the familiar scratch of stubble. The ache in his chest was trying to bubble it’s way up his throat. He shut his eyes against a wave of sorrow. Malcolm wasn’t sure why he did it, but he reached up with his good hand and pulled Derek into a tight hug. He prayed that Derek’s promise was true, he wanted desperately to believe this man was willing to wait for him. 

Derek sat down on the bed and let Malcolm fall further into his arms, as much as his bruised ribs and abs would allow. Derek felt the slight wet spot on his shoulder grow larger and he felt the vice grip around his heart ease up just slightly when he heard the broken sob. One hand gripping his shirt tight. Wrapping both arms tight around Malcolm he held the man tight as he began to silently wail in Derek’s arms. “We’ll get through it, I promise. You’re safe now.” He gently rocked them back and forth, unsure how long either of them sat there. Derek was certain Malcolm would push him away, again. But Derek was going to be here for as long as Malcolm needed him. 

“I’m so tired,” Malcolm whimpered after several long minutes, Derek was positive his voice couldn’t sound more painful if the man swallowed nails. 

“Close your eyes, I’m here.” 

“Will you stay?” Malcolm asked. 

‘Forever if you asked me to’ Derek thought, but instead he nodded, “Of course, scoot over,” he whispered. The bed wasn’t large and no doubt a nurse or doctor would say something about it, but he climbed up onto the bed and helped Malcolm come to rest again his chest. Bones lay across both their laps. 

“Promise not to accidentally stab you,” Malcolm whispered. 

For a single moment, Derek realized maybe, just maybe they’d okay after all. “Great, then I promise not to accidentally abandon you. I’ll protect you, I’ll keep watch,” Derek promised, pressing his lips to Malcolm’s hair. He’d keep watch as long as was needed. 

It was hours later, Derek asleep in a recliner beside Malcolm, Jessica on the couch in the corner and Gil sat between his two kids. He sighed as he looked over at Malcolm. His eyes wouldn’t stop watering, he couldn’t stop thinking the same thing over and over again. He reached out a shaking hand and gripped his kid’s forearm. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered. “God I was so sure, your father was...Please, kid, I need you. I know you aren’t my son, but christ, I didn’t realize how much I needed you until Jackie wasn’t here anymore to fill up my empty home.” 

“I love you too, Bâbâ,” came the soft mumble from Malcolm. 

“Me too,” Ainsley whispered as she curled on her side, eyes still closed. 

Gil smiled, eyes still damp with tears and stood, leaning over he pressed a kiss to Malcolm’s forehead, clear of the bruise. Then moved over to Ainsley, brushing the hair from her face. “I’m so proud of you two today. So proud, little sprout,” he whispered. 

Blue eyes fluttered open and he smiled at Ainsley as she gently gave his hand a pat, before closing her eyes once again. Moving back to Malcolm he kept one arm on his kid’s forearm. Gil smiled, “My kids,” he murmured. 

Jessica just watched from her spot on the couch and smiled, looking over her little family. There was no question Malcolm would struggle, but together, they’d get him through this. 

End


End file.
